


If Not for You, My Rage Would Die

by fearlesswindy



Series: Faerghus Four Omegaverse [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alpha Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, Alpha Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Alpha Ingrid Brandl Galatea, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Arranged Marriage, Blood Kink, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Implied Mpreg, M/M, Masochist Sylvain Jose Gautier, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Sylvain Jose Gautier, Omega Verse, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Scent Kink, Slow Burn, Will update tags as we go, one day will get to post-timeskip
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:00:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 78,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26154607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fearlesswindy/pseuds/fearlesswindy
Summary: The careful, predictive balance the Faerghus Lords had planned out for their children is thrown asunder when Sylvain Gautier becomes The Gautier Omega, the first in centuries and a coveted prize the Margrave only intends to pass to the Royal line.Felix, seen as the Fraldarius Alpha runt, has other ideas.He copes with a promise he can't fulfill, Sylvain hides his pain in fear no one would accept it, Ingrid guards a selfish secret, and Dimitri fights the ghosts of the past and present. Will the help of their Professor and their friends of the Blue Lions ever patch the four friends back together again? Or will war force them their separate ways?Sylvix omegaverse centered on the Faerghus Four.Updates weekly on Tuesdays! Hiatus over :)
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd & Felix Hugo Fraldarius & Ingrid Brandl Galatea & Sylvain Jose Gautier, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Dorothea Arnault/Ingrid Brandl Galatea, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Petra Macneary, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: Faerghus Four Omegaverse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2136846
Comments: 18
Kudos: 105





	1. The Magic Lesson

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my omegaverse Sylvix slow burn! This is part of a larger world fiction I'm working on, Faerghus Four Omegaverse. As of right now, this is considered the "main line," and there are currently two other side stories that take place during this one. I'll link to them in the chapter end notes when they are relevant. 
> 
> Please note! There will be other pairings for our favorite angsty idiots throughout the story, as well as many background relationships going on, but Sylvix is very much the focus and the end game. Mind the tags!
> 
>  **Explicit/Sexual content:**  
>  Chapter 6 "Brigid Prowess"  
> Chapter 10 "The After Party"  
> Chpater 19 "The Fires That Weren't"
> 
> **Because each Omegaverse is different (more details in chp 1 end notes):**
> 
> -Male omegas maintain external parts, but have internal shifting at presentation; Female alphas are more similar to intersex
> 
> -Crest bearers are practically guaranteed to present as something
> 
> -Secondary sex presents itself around puberty (known as presenting). 
> 
> -If no presentation occurs by 16, the individual is considered a beta
> 
> -Parental nouns are based off who sires/carries the child. Spousal/partner nouns based off gender expression.
> 
> -Heat/Rut cycles are typically on 3 month schedules
> 
> -Non-traditional pairings (beta's excluded) are outlawed by the Church of Seiros
> 
> -Typical A/B/O warnings apply
> 
> Updates on Tuesdays  
> Kudos and Comments appreciated <3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Professor has asked Sylvain to begin studying black magic and with the way she looks how could a guy refuse? Sadly, the seminar is taught by Professor Hanneman. Sylvain chooses to sleep and relive a memory instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Occurs halfway through the month of Garland Moon. Sylvain’s birthday has already passed, but worry not! The Professor gave him flowers.

#  **Chapter 1**

##  **—The Magic Lesson—**

**—Academy Phase—Mutiny in the Mist—Garland Moon—**

_Professor Hanneman? More like Professor Blatherman,_ thought Sylvain.Rain had started to tap on the windows, and his eyelids grew heavy.

_Good Goddess he just goes on and on and on…_

Following instructions from their Professor, Sylvain and Annette had arrived just in time to the Black Eagle classroom for the seminar on reason over a half hour ago, right before the rain started.Lysithea, Lorenz, and Dorothea were already waiting when they'd arrived and the lecturing started as soon as they took their seats.

Hanneman was about to go over how to calculate proper velocity for miasma for a _sixth_ time.

_Sweet Cethleann,_ w _e get it!_ He shouted internally, throwing his head back to look at the infinitely more interesting ceiling. He was reclining dangerously, arms crossed about his chest, wishing his Professor wasn’t so _freaking_ hot so he wouldn’t have agreed to this stupid seminar.

“ _You seem to have a natural ability for it. I’d like to see what you can do,_ ” She had told him. A low thunder rolled across the sky. _Oh, I’ll show you what I can do alright._

“Perhaps you could enlighten us, Sylvain,” Hanneman asked at him before his thoughts could take him somewhere sweet.

“Where upon the battlefield would the mage need to situate themselves to direct the proper portion—“

_Could he speak any slower? Goddess, why didn’t Manuela teach black magic?_ _Least I’d have something to look at,_ he mused, already knowing the answer from a cursory glance at the chalkboard.

He glanced over at Lysithea, seated next to him, making it seem like he was looking at her notes. He loathed to appear intelligent to his peers. It placed more expectations upon him than he was comfortable bearing. Life was just easier and more enjoyable as a simple, dumb omega.

“We’re waiting with baited breath,” Hanneman pestered, tapping his pointer on the desk, emphasizing the last two words.

“Right,” Sylvain said, leaning forward again, a small thud echoed as all four chair legs made contact with the floor at once. Rain continued to pitter against the windows, growing in weight.

“Welllllll….” He sung, leaning across his desk, squinting at the board.

_How far should I take this? No use answering wrong, it’d only drag things on more._

“You see…”

_Maybe if I answer correctly, he’ll finally move on to something more interesting, like literally any fire spell._

“And?” Hanneman said, gently whacking his pointer repeatedly into his palm.

_Maybe I could impress the Professor. She might even smile at me._ A cocky grin spread across his face. _Sold_.

“Left field, behind the lancer,” he started, stating the far-too-obvious-to-be-correct answer first. “Although…” he added quickly, pausing to ‘do’ the calculations as if he hadn’t ten minutes ago, “...depending on the cover situation, right beside the swordmaster would yield stronger results as-” he stood up partially and pointed toward a spot on the board, “-the shielded enemy unit in the top corner.” Hanneman placed his pointer on the spot with raised eyebrows. “Yeah that one,” he said, taking his hand down. “According to the formula, they’d also _just_ barely be in range.” He finished, plopping back down into his seat unceremoniously, knowing he’d cracked Hanneman’s trick question ages ago.

“Well. Done.” Hanneman praised, “Now, for those who missed the young noble’s reasoning—“

He spotted Annette turning to him from across the room, mouth completely agape, eyes full of bewilderment. Her hair was frayed from rubbing her hand into it so many times and bite marks speckled her pencil. In front of her were multiple pages of notes, all color-coded to varying degrees. She mouthed ' _HOW'_ at him, to which he merely shrugged. She twitched back to her notes, and in quick secessions looked from her notes to the board, desperate for understanding. _Poor thing,_ Sylvain thought, noting the small bit of sweat clinging to the back of her barely visible neck, _must be close to heat._

He himself was nearing his and it had become a gnawing anxiety at the back of his mind for the past week. It’d be his first time experiencing it away from the comfort of his home nest. A nest he’d spent almost six years crafting.

Most omega’s were fine with a couple pieces of clothing from a close alpha or mate. Sylvain? No, he took nesting as an art. Something that must be finely selected, tuned, and crafted. He liked to keep the smells of multiple alphas around him—the more options the better. Who knows what he’d be in the mood for when the heat strikes, so to speak. He liked to stay prepared and since moving to the academy he’d lost all his years of well curated prep.

He reclined back into his seat, having satisfied Hanneman. _Maybe I can finally nap_ , he pondered, except Annette’s present state had reminded him of his current nest problem.

It had been impossible to pack up the previous one; he would have been left with no space for anything else. And he had no doubt his father would order the nuns to scour the manor and burn any instances of his nesting. Saints forbid any omega from ever wanting some comfort prior to mating. 

He had opted to bring three of his most treasured pieces, one from each of his childhood friends as they have provided the most comfort during the challenging time: A torn piece of cape from Dimitri, collected in secret after a tourney; an old piece of wool lining from Ingrid’s coat, given to him by her grandmother ( _Saints bless her a thousand times over)_ ; and one of Felix’s scarves, collected when Sylvain had told a particularly crude joke and it was thrown in his face as result. Joke was on him though, as he had boldly taken in the scent and pocketed the prize all while not breaking eye contact. Felix had groaned with annoyance and momentarily went white. He's never asked for it back.

Rain drops started to work their way past the cracks of the roof, falling onto the cobblestone floor. _Plink…plink…plink…_ The rhythmic drips lulling him towards sleep. He didn’t even remember what he had said to warrant such a reaction from Felix, but when the full force of his scent hit his face he’d experienced near ecstasy. He tried recalling his earthy scent now, feeling a slightly tinge of excitement.

Ok, so maybe he had made room to bring four items instead of three, but the fact was Felix’s scent was his favorite. He smelled of grass and burnt autumn leaves in a way that made Sylvain purr away all his worries. It wasn’t that he was trying to play favorites with his friends or anything, he just needed the extra stress relief. You know, for the hard school work he had in front of him. At least, that’s how he had convinced himself to add it.

The extra fourth item was a bit of Felix’s undershirt.

The first summer after the Tragedy, Duke Rodrigue had suggested a hunting trip into the northern Gautier territory. Margrave had been quick to accept as it would assist in reinforcing their own territorial borders with Sreng and something about strengthening bonds between Lords. He had refused to leave his son alone with Felix, however, keeping a watchful eye on them at all times, all while chatting with the Duke.

The trip had been mostly boring and Felix was clearly still mourning the loss of his brother. He no longer smiled easily at his jokes, leading Sylvain to try just about anything to get a reaction out of him. His father must have heard him joking around 'cause he had angrily recalled him to the back of the party, away from Felix.

He had been scared of his father then, before he'd known how to wield his body and sexuality like a shield. The month prior to the trip, his brother Miklan had been disowned and cast away. Sylvain would be a liar if he said he wasn’t relieved when it had happened, but much of the hate Miklan had gotten was, for a short time, redirected to himself, the Gautier omega. The whole hunting trip itself felt like it had worsened his father’s attitude and after being directed away from his friend, the only comfort he’d had since Miklan left, Sylvain wasn’t interested in sticking around.

He had slowly distanced himself from the party, staying within earshot in case anything happened, just craving to feel the woods by himself to calm his nerves. Beautiful colors had begun to touch the leaves this far north, despite the time of year, and the sight alone was more to behold than any animal they'd kill. He closed his eyes, breathing in the deep wooded air.

The sound had come too quick for him to react properly and brace himself. A boar had come charging out of the woods, hitting him in the leg, luckily grazing only his calf. With a fierce territorial growl it had gone to loop back around and Sylvain sprinted away.

* * *

Thunder cracks the sky above Garreg Mach, but all Sylvain hears is the boar rearing its head, smashing its tusks into the trees behind him. He runs until he hits a small clearing of dirt and is able to swiftly change course, leaving skid marks behind. The charging boar would need time to reposition itself properly, leaving Sylvain time to call for help.

His vision goes white, a flash through the windows, followed by an ear-ringing thunder. Something hits him hard in the thighs, sending him ass over head. He yelps loudly, as he lands on the bramble beneath, injuring his leg more and cutting up his hands and face. Confused at what had hit him, but not willing to wait to figure it out, he scrambles up the nearest tree.

It was here, balancing on a branch, he figures out there were two boars. He silently exams himself: sore, but no gashing wounds. The second must have been a female or else he would have been completely gourd. In the distance he hears the hunting party chasing the first animal and the booming voice of his father, “SYLVAIN!” having just heard his cry.

Distant thunder rumbles, culminating into a loud snap as the branch beneath him gives out. He tries to grab upwards at anything only to slice his hand on a jagged edge.

“Ah-h!” Air involuntarily leaves his lungs as he collapses onto his side, shoulder jamming into ribs.

The boars’ squeals feel distant now, along with the hunting party—his father’s calls growing fainter, head pulsing with ache. Or maybe he was losing consciousness. The two falls had hurt him well enough he wishes to never move again. Certainly he’s safe enough for the moment and allows himself to whine as he grips his bleeding hand, curling into the fetal position.

The drips of rain inside the classroom morph into drips of his blood falling from his hand, landing on the leaves underneath him. _Plink, plink, plink,_ his head was hurting, the noise like daggers between his ears.

“Sylvain!”

“urg…ah” he mutters out, choking on his throat. “Felix?”

He lifts his head to see the young, black-haired alpha running towards him furiously. He throws his weapons aside and drops to his knees in front of the beat-down omega. He feels himself being lifting into his lap. His eyes must have been darting, analyzing the situation, but Sylvain knew not as he was busy inhaling Felix’s scent, calming his nerves. He opens his eyes to gaze upwards, constellations faintly visible in the sky above, haloing his head.

Everything would be fine now that Felix is here.

Felix tears off his coat and untucks his shirt, baring his midriff as he uses his sharp canines to tear off a portion. He then takes Sylvain’s hand gently into his own, and wraps the wound to stave the blood.

* * *

“And that concludes todays seminar.” Hanneman’s words of freedom broke Sylvain from his trance. “Do try not to let this storm affect your studies.”

Sylvain stood up and stretched. It hadn’t exactly been a nap, but he’ll take it.

He moved to make his way to Annette, who was still taking notes.

The memory wasn’t a perfectly happy one, and the bandage still had his own blood on it, but it was the only other item he possessed with Felix’s scent on it. And besides, the glorious vision of seeing him heroically toss his weapons aside to bare his chest and tend his wound had _definitely_ gotten him through some hard heats.

Don’t get him wrong, he still preferred the lovely, supple breasts of female alphas. _Just like the Professors_ , he thought, hungrily. _Oh, man to find a pair like that to have against my back as she fills—_

“Oh Sylvain, I just don’t get it!” Annette said, grabbing his arm and breaking his focus away from boobs for the moment. “I studied day and night before coming here and I study day and night now and you just—just—aargh” she grumbles, letting out a frazzle sigh, slightly nuzzling into his cuff.

“Okay, com’mon. I’m sure it’s just…” he paused awkwardly and searched for the right phrase, “...the time of year, especially if some dimwitted idiot like me got it.” He said giving his goofy smile, attempting to comfort her. He really hated seeing any woman in discomfort.“You’ll get through your thing and come out of it all fresh minded. It’ll all make sense then. I’m sure of it.” Professor Hanneman was still in the classroom, discussing something with Dorothea, and he hoped to spare Annette any embarrassment from his word choice.

She stopped moving her head against his arm to rest more weight into him.

“Yeah, you’re right,” She admitted softly. It had worked.

“Is there anyone you want me to escort you to?”

“Oh, no” she giggled, removing herself from his arm. “I got some time, I’ll be fine.” She went to collect her things and stand up. “Thanks for watching out for me-EE!” her tone shifted upwards unexpectedly. Her feet had tangled up in her bag, tripping her as she rose. She fell full-body into Sylvain, causing an aroma of sweet honey and linens to fill his nose. With the height difference, he had inadvertently scented her.

Quickly and awkwardly stepping away, and not wishing to appear as if he'd scented another omega, he made sure to keep his hands on her shoulders so she wouldn’t fall again. “You sure?" He said. "Cause—uh...” He paused, looking around meaningfully, acutely aware of Hanneman now.

“Oh, _fine,_ ” She relented. “Take me to Mercie, please.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -According to Sylvain the Professor is the only one with the title of Mega Beta Babe  
> -Granny Galatea was sweet on Sylvain as a young pre-omega and she cheekily granted him the item one visitation as a teenager.
> 
> **Next Time:**  
>  \--A Study in Authority--  
> “You’re not wrong,” King Lambert responded, sounding agreeable “but Margrave is—“  
> “Stubborn, yes, I know, but I implore you, as my friend, not as my King, to—” The Duke paused, searching for the right words, “ _hold off_ until I see if I can convince him otherwise. I owe it to my son.”
> 
> Follow me on my twitter @fearlesswindy1 for more preview tidbits and installment updates!
> 
> Detailed Notes on this Omegaverse (will appear again when relevant):  
>  **( 𝛂 )** Male omegas more or less keep their external parts in place, but have a great deal of internal shifting, which can be quite painful during presentation. Female alphas are intersex, growing a penis at presentation, but retaining vulva ect., and cannot become pregnant. Female omegas are known for being more fertile, producing multiple children in a single pregnancy (and therefore being slightly more desirable by noble standards), but the virility between male and female alphas is negligible.  
>  **( β )** There is no marriage in this world, only mating which is viewed as the same. Two people are considered mated via bonding bites, although courting customs can publicly display "ownership" prior to a bonding bite ala engagement. The three regions of Fodlan have different mating rituals and courting customs.  
>  **( ω )** Those with Crests are considered almost guaranteed to present as something upon puberty, but betas with Crests have occurred throughout time. Genealogy plays a major part in predicting a new born's secondary sex and many nobles will use this to arrange matings. A person is considered beta if no presentation has occurred by their 16th birthday.  
>  **( 𝛂 )** Parental nouns are based off who sires/carries the child. Spousal nouns based off gender expression. Aka Rodrigue married a male omega cause I wanted him to and Sylvain's going to be a mom someday.  
>  **( β )** Heat/Rut cycles are more or less every 3-4 months and last anywhere between 2-8 days. Each persons cycle is regulated by their hormones and environment and can therefore be affected by things such as stress, nutrition, and the presence of the preferred sex. Strong alphas can induce heats and likewise hearty omegas can induce ruts. Mated couples typically sync up, but is not guaranteed.   
> **( ω )** Same pairings betweens alphas and omegas is forbidden. Most Crest-bearers present as either and it is the Goddess's wish for Crests to fill the land and so it is decreed by the Church of Seiros. Betas are the only free ones to choose a mate regardless of second sex, although it is generally frowned upon for a beta to pair with an alpha or omega and such pairings are typically seen only in commoners and the Crest-less nobility.  
>  **( 𝛂 )** All omegas experience a desire to nest during their heat. However, in more sexually repressed cultures, such as the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, and to a certain extent all of Fodlan, unmated omegas are taught not to build nests as it is seen as inviting pregnancy out of matehood, and therefore sinful and undesirable. Except for the most pious, this is generally seen as bullshit and most omegas have at least one alpha scented item to ease their heats. A mated omega would construct a large nest consisting of multiple sheets, blankets, pillows, and clothing items from their mate whereas an unmated omega would have one or two items from a pleasant smelling alpha, secretly hidden away.


	2. A Study in Authority

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Determined to ignore the Professors lesson on battalions and leadership, Felix finds himself looking at Sylvain and wondering when the last he felt happiness was. Of course, it was during a time Glenn was still alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was the player who always separated these four and made them kill each other in each route outside Azure Moon. Because I live for the drama and angst.  
> This is my apology to them, but first, they must suffer again.
> 
> Chapter takes place a week prior to the previous chapter.

#  **_Chapter 2_ **

##  **_—A Study in Authority—_ **

**_—Academy Phase—Mutiny in the Mist—Garland Moon—_ **

Felix tried to recall the last time he'd been truly entertained by a subject. The Professor had begun her lecture for the week on leadership and battalions, and already Felix was checking out; an entirely useless subject in the eyes of Felix Hugo Fraldarius. _Can only trust yourself._ The Professor instructed the class to open their texts. He obeyed indifferently, leaning forward over his desk to prop his chin, preparing for an afternoon of boredom. He’d rather be training.

Swordplay, of course, had enchanted his mind from an early age, mostly in thanks to his older brother, Glenn, but had since grown into an meditative practice and an endless need for perfection. The task hardly provided any sense of glee. It was only a reminder of what he had lost.

No, the last time Felix Hugo Fraldarius had felt truly happy was in the three months leading to the Tragedy of Duscur. A time when his childhood friends, Ingrid, Sylvain, and Prince Dimitri, were experiencing their first set of growing pains.

An arrangement had been made at the time of Glenn’s presentation as alpha with House Galatea. Glenn would be mated to their only crest-bearing child, Ingrid, provided her second sex be compatible. The possibility had delighted the young Felix. His friend Ingrid could become a permanent fixture in his life (as if anything would tear him apart from his friends) and he found himself ruminating on it often. What if he could be promise-mated to one of his friends? What if it didn’t have to be some stranger?

Like fuel to a flame, Felix's thoughts ran wile when Sylvain shocked everyone by presenting as an omega. The first crested Gautier to do so in five generations. It had initially upset Sylvain until Ingrid took him aside to console him. Felix had known his friend was hurt, but he couldn’t help feel elated when Sylvain had shared the news. The rest of them had yet to present, but Felix, despite his size, was surer than the Faerghus grey skies he’d present as an alpha.

However, his preteen heart had been shattered once Ingrid returned with the sullen red head. He had expressed fear his father would immediately ship him away to some alpha, but, as it had turned out, the Margrave valued his family’s crest before his son’s second sex and opted to bide their time for a more suitable mate to present.

Sylvain confided in them his father wouldn’t 'hand off _his_ Crest' to any 'weak lesser House alphas,' giving a sheepish look towards Felix. Together, the group had recognized the depth behind the Margrave’s words, it suddenly weighing down on them. No one spoke for a time. Ingrid, Dimitri, and Felix all gave each other slow side-eyes, cautiously avoiding Sylvain’s. It was clear the Margrave had hoped to wait for the prince to present as alpha. Leaving Felix as a dirty second-pickings. Oh how his heart had sunk.

Felix recalled hearing Glenn’s words in that moment. He’d been teaching him sword basics for a number of years by then, and although he still wasn’t nearly as gifted as his older brother, he had soaked in every moment.

“ _You can’t admit defeat before the final blow,_ ” he had said, scruffing Felix’s hair. Glenn had gotten an early blow on him and Felix had been absolutely dejected. “ _Keep you elbows in tight, stance wide, and always-_ ” he took the side of his knuckles under his younger brother’s chin “ _-keep your chin up until the battle is won._ ” 

“Hey,” the young Felix had said slowly raising his face up, breaking the silence. “We’ll always be friends, okay?”

“Yeah,” Ingrid responded, giving a soft smile towards the sullen red head.

“No matter what,” the prince added

“We’ll protect you,” Felix promised.

Sylvain straightened his back a bit upon hearing his friends rally behind him, looking at each of them meaningly.

Slowly, he spoke, “But how are you going to protect me…” squinting his eyes, “...if you’re…” now standing up, “IT!” slapping Ingrid on the shoulder, dashing across the grassy area, his signature goofy smile upon his face. Ingrid had looked purely enraged, standing up immediately to give chase. Him and Dimitri howled with laughter.

Felix had smiled and turned to the prince, “shall we pursue as well?”

“I think we shall.”

They played for what felt like forever, chasing one another in the castle courtyard, desperate to ignore the growing loss of their childhoods.

* * *

_If only,_ Felix thought, lost in his own reminiscing, wishing they could return back to the simpler times. He hid his soft smile behind his hand, only vaguely hearing the Professors lecturing, and played out the full memory in his mind until his lips turned into a scowl. _Why’d he have to die?_

* * *

They had played until Dimitri had been summoned for his princely lessons and Ingrid had departed with her father, leaving Felix alone with Sylvain. They sat in the grassy pasture near the stables to watch the sun begin its decent over the castle walls. Enjoying the silence and colors, catching their breaths from the impromptu game of tag, Sylvain had suddenly asked, “What if I die?”

“Hmm?” Felix lazily responded. He could tell his friend’s tone was serious but he couldn’t take his eyes of the growing paint-seeped sky.

“You said you’d protect me?” Sylvain paused, “Well, what if I die?”

“You’re not going to die, stupid.”

“We’re all going to die, wiseass.” Sylvain’s tone was noticeably unchanged.

“Tch, don’t call me wiseass when you’re the only one here, wiseass,” Felix smiled and turned to give him a playful shove, attempting to deflect away the growing feelings in his stomach.

Ignoring the jest, Sylvain only gently pressed his shoulder back into his friend. “Shuddup, I’m being serious.”

“Well then I’d die with you,” Felix responded, feeling a different heat rising to his already hot cheeks. He hadn’t really thought about it, it just felt right. Life just didn’t seem like it’d be fun without him.

Sylvain turned to look him in the eyes; Felix shifted uncomfortably in the grass, nervous energy bundling in his stomach, seeing the golden flecks of his friend’s brown eyes at a range he wasn’t used to.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

* * *

_A promise wasted,_ Felix thought idly as he stared holes into the back of Sylvain’s head inside the classroom, wishing not to engage in any way possible with the Professor’s lesson on…he paused to look down at the chapter title… _ugh_ ' _Heroics from the Ages: Knightly Leadership in Battalion Stratagems.'_ He rolled his eyes only for them to land back on the redhead seated diagonally.

His hair looked dirty. _That’s unusual_.

Sylvain was known for his over-the-top cleanliness when it came to body hygiene. _He must not have found some female alpha last night to—no. stop._ Not letting himself finish the thought, he took his eyes back to the page, trying to read the first line. _Ingrid must find this riveting,_ he thought, softly sighing with annoyance, thoughts lingering on his brother. _Fantastical_ _fairy tales that get you dead. Truly excellent lessons to be learned. Bravo Professor._

Of course, the Professor had long since moved past this chapter in her lecture and soon Felix’s mind drifted back to his memories…

* * *

Returning back to the Dukedom of Fraldarius from their monthly visit to the capital, Felix had set himself about to become a strong alpha. He’d thought about it the whole ride back. It was simple really. If Sylvain wasn’t permitted to mate with a weak alpha, Felix would simply get strong. His sword skills were already decent, but he’d need to become stronger than the future King of Faerghus. So strong that _when_ he presented as alpha there’d be no doubt as to whom Sylvain would be promised to. And _obviously_ the best way to achieve so would be by dueling with his brother.

As soon as their carriage stoped inside the Dukedom walls, Felix made a marching charge for Glenn, who had opted to stay behind to train. Already, at age 14 Glenn had impressed the Royal Guard with his swordsmanship and leadership capabilities. He was hoping to join their ranks before age 16, a lofty goal made all the more impressive knowing he achieved it a mere month and half later.

Glenn was everything a strong alpha was supposed to be and everything Felix had sought to emulate. Over the course of the month they dueled every chance they got, never succeeding in defeating his brother, but learning quickly. By the end of the month Felix was able to tell Glenn was not holding back anymore and they had even amassed a small audience of spectators, their bouts now an awe-inspiring display of fine swordplay. Their father eventually would come around to watch his sons, radiating with pride, encouraging and praising them both for overcoming their weaknesses.

So it was when Glenn went to join the Royal Guard shortly after celebrating his 15th birthday, Felix sensed he was close to his goal. He doubled down his training regimen, eager to defeat his brother in combat the next time he saw him. Proof he’d be strong enough to stay with Sylvain forever, as promised.

Of course, that never happened.

The next day he had presented, to the surprise of everyone but him (and maybe his father), as an alpha, bestowing House Fraldarius with two male alphas.

* * *

He scowls at himself, remembering how over-confident he'd been. How he'd lacked the foresight into the world’s chaos. Life wouldn’t be that easy for him, and it never will be. The sooner you accept that, as he had learned, the easier it was to survive.

He let his eyes look upwards away from Sylvain as the Professor was now drawing something on the chalkboard. She had a good sense about her and was a demon with a sword. She’d already taught him some valuable lessons at the training grounds. This one though? _Meaningless garbage._

His eyes drift toward the Boar, animal masquerading as a student and prince, taking swift notes in his seat.

* * *

Felix had impatiently accompanied his father to the capital. He would finally defeat Glenn, perhaps even in front of Dimitri and Sylvain. He had known Ingrid would unlikely be there as her families trips to the capital were not as necessary as his family’s or the Margrave’s.

Although his father’s trips to the capital weren’t always entirely necessary either. His Majesty King Lambert and his father, Duke Rodrigue Fraldarius, were close friends who sought each other’s company and advice often. They had fought together in the northern country of Sreng, earning his father the moniker The Shield of Faerghus. Felix knew His Majesty was preparing for some trip and would be gone for a time, and they were merely visiting to send them off.

He was met with extreme disappointment when he learned he could not visit with his brother for a meaningful enough time. _Sir_ Glenn had to prepare for the upcoming travels to Duscur and took this task with extreme seriousness. Of course, _Sir_ Glenn was still the newest and youngest recruit and was tasked only with securing the carriages for travel.

“Its _one_ duel. Please? Moving boxes and goods around can’t take _that_ much time,” Felix whined.

“Be patient brother,” Glenn responded, securing a crate to the back of a carriage. “As a Knight my duties must now come first.” He must have seen Felix’s clear disappointment when he added, “Why not a duel against His Royal Highness? A change of pace would do you good in your training. You won’t always fight against another sword-wielder you know.”

“Fine,” he pouted, “Whatever.” And he turned to find his friend, anger in his steps.

* * *

A knot twisted in Felix’s stomach at the memory, tilting his head down from the discomfort. _Stupid last words to say to your bother. Idiot._

* * *

More disappointment had come when Dimitri shared Sylvain was not there to see the travel party off. His plan was going all wrong. He asked Dimitri why he wasn’t present.

“I think it’s cause of-” he had shyly paused and leaned in to whisper, “-you know…”

“Ugh, yeah, whatever,” he'd spat, anger rising in his chest at Dimitri’s implication. “So do you want to duel me or what?” he had asked, changing the subject quickly.

“Huh?” The prince had said, being caught off guard. “Oh. Sure,” he responded once he had time to think, “I don’t think I’ll have much chance for a duel once in Duscur. The people there are not accustomed to formal sparring so I’ve read. It will be nice to have one before we depart.”

On their walk to the training grounds, Felix’s mind had turned to the fight at hand. He had wondered what weapon the prince would choose. He had seen him training with a pole arm in the past, but he was also adept with the sword. Perhaps he’d try to surprise him with an axe. He had quickly scanned his friend-turned-opponent, looking for weaknesses.

“Didn’t you have a dagger?” He had asked the prince, noticing his normal ornamental dagger gone from his belt.

“Really?” He had laughed. “You just now notice that?”

Felix shrugs, still awaiting an answer.

“I gave it away as a departing gift to a friend a while back.” He said, with a…wait was Dimitri blushing? Feeling awkward from noticing, Felix had never responded.

* * *

Felix tries to remember the fight, but fails to stir-up any details, memory clouded from their more meaningful match at the Grand Tourney and the subsequent campaign against the western rebels.

Dimitri had definitely used the lance, both of them with their clear weapon preferences even at that age. He squints, looking past the battle map the Professor had now sketched onto the board, arrows pointing which way and that, when his stomach alerted him lunch was nearing.

 _Ah yes, that was it_ , his eyes close gently at the noise, their duel had been interrupted for a meal before a victor could be made.

* * *

Dusk was setting after their meal and Dimitri had been whisked away by _Sir_ Glenn for final preparations. He had been left to his own devices for the evening; the training grounds closed under nightfall, Felix found himself bored.

After a time he had determined he could still train, albeit a different skill this time. He began to stealth his way around the castle, slowly working his way from the guest chambers to His Majesty’s office, gaining confidence each time he past a guard without notice. The twitchy alpha hormones making him think he could steal Sylvain away for himself.

It was as he tittered by a tapestry near the King’s office when he had overheard the news. The frustrated sound of his father’s voice had stopped him in his tracks.

“He’s a fool to think they wouldn’t work,” his father had said.

Felix’s heart pounded in his chest. Was his father was talking about Sylvain and…him? Could it be? Had he finally proven himself? Hope burned his eyes red. He eagerly listened on.

“Yes, but the Margrave has always had great plans for his offspring, and I can’t say I’d be inclined to deny a request,” The King responded solemnly.

A pit began forming in Felix’s stomach.

The Duke sighed thoughtfully, speaking almost to himself, “A Gautier omega…” He paused, thinking.

“There’s no way he’d want his crest away from his territory,” The Duke said. “And he would not do well away here in the capital. Glenn will eventually need to take over as Duke with Ingrid so Felix could—“

 _Live up north,_ he had finished the thought in his head before his father could out loud. _With Sylvain._ His heart skipped a beat. _As mates_ …he felt his blood being redirected elsewhere. A Gautier omega, all for himself. _The_ Gautier Omega. _Sylvain_. He closed his eyes and shook his head gently, reorienting his focus.

“You’re not wrong,” King Lambert responded, sounding agreeable. “But the Margrave is—“

“Stubborn, yes, I know, but I implore you, as my friend, not as my King, to—” he paused, searching for the right words, “- _hold off_ until I see if I can convince him otherwise. I owe it to my son.”

 _Hold off on what?_ He had thought, before quickly dismissing it as pride swelled in his chest for his father’s efforts, ears burning from the love and possibility.

The King chuckled, “very well, my friend.”

* * *

“Idiot,” Felix huffed under his breath, shaking himself from his slouched posture. He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. Of course none of his father’s plan had happened. The Tragedy of Duscur took his brother from him, ruined any and all promises made, and revealed his father to him as the weak, pitiful man he truly is. _Unforgivable_.

Ingrid ended up presenting as alpha a year after Glenn’s death. That had left her with…confusing feelings regarding Glenn. Not that Felix particularly cared, she, like his father, had idolized his knighthood and by association his death. The Boar had also presented as alpha, and although he was unsure when he had, it was clear the prince was the absolute worst kind of alpha. The kind with no humanity left inside him that made Felix disgusted to the core. His once friend was now nothing more than an animal, a rabid boar destroying all the was good in its path.

* * *

“Were you even trying to pay attention?”

Felix let his eyes cooly roll up towards the dominating Ingrid, standing arms crossed at his desk with a displeased glint to her eyes. He had spent the whole lesson reminiscing on old wounds, and now half the class had already departed. With a sigh, he stood, closing the book shut, having never turned from it’s initial page.

“This is important Felix,” she said. She had this uncanny way of making every word towards him sound as if he were a child. It annoyed the shit out of him.

“As if,” he could only reply. “I’m heading to the dining hall, you coming?”

“Felix. Being able to lead a battalion properly is critical to being a knight. You need to be able to form a mutual trust with the people following you,” said continued, ignoring his question.

“I’m not here to be a knight,” he hissed.

Having just ignored the Professors lecture and possessing zero desire to hear the shortened version from Ingrid, Felix walked away, jogging towards Sylvain. The pair had been somewhat estranged since the Grand Tourney two years ago, but sometimes Felix couldn’t help himself. He'd been secretly hoping the time here at the Officer’s Academy would allow him to prove his worth. A small 'unbelievable' could be heard from behind him as he caught up to the omega, needing something to cheer his sour mood.

“Ugh, you reek. Forget where the bathhouse is? Com’on, I’m starving,” Felix chided.

“What!?” Sylvain said over his question, a slight panic to his voice. He quickly leaned his head into a pit, exposing the side of his neck. “Aw jeeze, it can’t be that bad can it? I was up late studying and slept in this morning. I didn’t have time to—”

 _Sylvain studying?_ He fully doubted it. _He’s clearly lying about something—maybe he did go off to some alpha—_ No _,_ Felix’s little scheme had worked. He was able to get the small scent of sweet snowfall and chopped wood into this nose, completely unassaulted by anything else. A true rarity and something to enjoy.

“Did you not hear me? I’m starving” he said, quickly walking past the omega, resisting the urge to hum.

Since the Tragedy, his ruts were usually violent, with him being able to remember very little after their occurrence. But still to this day, there is only one detail from his first rut he was able to remember: the uncomfortable feeling in his stomach he had when looking upon Sylvain Jose Gautier, sun setting in his golden-flecked eyes, as they promised to bind their lives to each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact!  
> -The dagger was given away almost 2 years prior (1174) to when Felix notices (1176). He has very low perception.
> 
>  **Next Time:**  
>  \--Best-Laid Plans--  
> He just liked having the scents of alphas around him that was all. It had been a defensive decision originally, garnering a reputation poor enough to piss off his family and lessen his desirability, but he ended up enjoying it to an extent. He had no intention of ever taking anything further. Not when he was the highly sought after, crest-wielding Gautier omega.
> 
> Follow my twitter @fearlesswindy1 for more preview snipbits and update announcements!


	3. Best-Laid Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sylvain sets out to make the best of his day after the boring seminar with Hanneman. Ingrid attempts to lecture him, and Sylvain has a chance encounter with the leader of the Golden Deer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This picks back up after chapter 1 with Sylvain, after this story maintains chronology. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

# Chapter 3

## —Best-Laid Plans—

### —Academy Phase—Mutiny in the Mist—Garland Moon—

Sylvain sat in the dining hall by himself, attempting to dry off after escorting Annette to their mutual omega friend, Mercedes. There was some sort of unspoken code amongst omgeas: they all took care of each other near their heats. Maybe it was because they knew just how painful it could be—physically and emotionally. They’d silently make sure they would have enough food and materials, escort each other around, you know, safety in numbers’n’stuff. He doesn’t even remember learning to do it, it just…came naturally.

Now that Professor Blatherman’s snooze-worthy seminar was over, he focused himself with turning the day around. First up: lunch. The seminar had run long past the normal time for the meal and the hall was mostly empty. Luckily, the delicious aroma still lingered and Sylvain managed to get a plate of Albinean lemon-crusted herring.

He still wanted to collect more items for his nest, worried the small assortment wouldn’t satisfy him. Already in the two short months at Garreg Mach Sylvain had managed to collect a group of women he mentally referred to as his alpha cuties. Tricky part was managing to collect the items without the other alphas knowing. He bathed as regularly as he could to wash off any damning scents, but dragging an item to his room was wholly another thing and entirely too risky.

But in those two months he had already concocted a plan. And her name was Nina.

 _Wait, was that right?_ He thought, confusing her image with another student, _Yeah_ , _definitely Nina, the super sweet, super cute beta laundry girl._

Sylvain had always been taken by women, even before he’d presented, and on occasion found himself enchanted by a beta beauty. He was hoping to add— _Mina!_ _Her name is Mina! c_ orrecting himself—to his group of beauties. He’d been sweet on her since he arrived, hoping she’d eventually let him into the laundry room unnoticed to collect some items.

 _Time to cash in on that_ , he thought, adding the laundry room to his list of plans for the evening.

Having scented items from an alpha without their permission was a bit of a taboo, especially for nobles, but as far as Sylvain could tell, every omega did it. His father had once found a stashed away shirt he’d gotten from Felix. No matter how many times he said Felix had indeed gifted it, the Margrave had refused to believe. “ _The nobility isn’t granted such luxuries!_ ” His father had said. “ _It is merely the timely desire, son._ ” He'd burned it and reported him to the nuns. Just thinking about it cramped his hand from all the scripture he was forced to transcribe. 

The doors to the hall opened up and he could hear the storm was finally letting up.

_Nice. Maybe I can head into town after all._

He had hoped to collect something from a certain alpha in town, one that was currently really keen on him. _Patricia? Penelope? Ah whatever, the one that smells like cedar_.

He was pretty sure she’d just give him an item if he asked outright, but that had certain connotations he wished to avoid.

He was close enough to his heat to make some alphas twitchy from a certain distance (which he absolutely delighted in) but not close enough to be experiencing any true symptoms. It was above and beyond his favorite time to get laid. He particularly loved it when they’d beg him to stay and wait out his heat with them, but he’d always make up some excuse. It was a line he’d never cross. He did have standards after all, despite what everyone thought.

He just liked having the scents of alphas around him that was all. It had been a defensive decision originally, garnering a reputation poor enough to piss off his family and lessen his desirability, but he ended up enjoying it to an extent. He had no intention of ever taking anything further. Not when he was the highly sought after, Crest-wielding Gautier omega.

_Right. So the plan is to finish up lunch, hit up the beta beauty, stash some stolen items, bathe, and then into the town to find that lovely—_

“Where were you today? You missed training.”

He didn’t bother looking up. Only Ingrid had a way of talking to him like a father scolding a pup. Too bad his own father had beaten her too it—he was immune to its affects.

“Shminarr,” he responded, mouth still full of fish.

“Ugh could you _please_ eat your food all the way before speaking?”

Ever the opportunist, he looked up into her eyes and swallowed as slowly as he could, a sly smile upon his face, noting her eyes following his throat. Twitchy alphas were the best, even if she’s just his friend.

“Better?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Hardly,” She responded, eyes rolling in disgust.

Knowing him prior to his first heat had ruined any chances of his friends finding him attractive whatsoever. A simple fact his father and brother had driven home so hard, it still stung on occasion. **_Told you,_** a voice not of his own streaked past his mind. He ignored it as he had done so with Ingrid’s condescending tone.

“Professor wanted me to attend Hanneman’s seminar on black magic.” Speaking casually with her now, “It lasted four hours!? Can you believe!?”

“Sounds to me you really took to heart what Professor Hanneman had to say,” she said sarcastically.

“Pwsh, as if.” He moved to take another bite.

“You really should head to the training grounds though. You’re behind on your training! And besides-” she paused to make sure he was listening, “-Felix said he hoped to duel you today.”

“Phe-licksh!?” He said with a choking surprise.

“Ugh. _CHEW,_ ” the alpha demanded.

He hastily swallowed, her dominating alpha voice turning him on slightly.

“Now I know you’re lying. He only ever trains by himself!”

She shrugged. “I know, but it’s the truth. Something about you not staying busy enough?”

He feigned a face of hurt at the accusation, bringing a hand to his chest, scoffing.

“We’re just worried about you is all. Our next battle will be against the Western Church next week you know,” she said.

“Okay, now. First I’ll have you know I am _plenty_ busy,” he started. “In fact, I am already late for multiple appointments.”

She scoffed, “ _Please,_ and their names would be…?”

Sylvain stared with his mouth opened, aware of what she was accusing and failing to contradict. Ingrid raised her eyebrows, tilting her head at him driving the point home.

“That’s besides the point,” he said, catching his thoughts again. “I won’t be at this month’s assignment anyways. I have the thing.”

“Oh,” She said flatly, body language immediately becoming awkward at his euphemism.

At the beginning of the year all alphas and omegas had to provide the Professor with their cycles, but he had done the curtesy to reminder her when the Blue Lions received their monthly mission; not like he had an alliterative motive to see her or anything. It was then she had requested he attend the seminar the following week, and he had started staying up late to study in efforts to impress her.

“As I said,” he said, standing up, meal finally completed. “I have multiple appointments to get to.”

“Would you please at least think of stopping by the training grounds?”

“Yeah, sure, fine, I’ll see if I can fit it in.”

* * *

“Whoa, hey there buddy, where you think you’re going?” The leader of the Golden Deer himself had stopped him before he could enter the laundry quarters.

“Uh, to pick up some laundry,” Sylvain lied.

“Mhm, sure, that’s why you’re at the _back_ of the building. Say you wouldn’t happen to be off to see a girl named Lena would you?” Claude said with a cool confidence.

_LENA. Not Mina! Flames, that’s her name, of course._

“Um, no, of course not. Why would you ask that,” he responded with a slight concern. _Wait, how does Claude know her?_

“Ha!” Claude responded, reading him like a book. “Seems I’m not the only omega who thought to get an insider at the laundry quarters,” he admitted freely.

“Oh…uh…I wasn’t, you see,” Sylvain said, trying to save face.

“ _Relax_. What do you want? I’ll see to it she pulls it.”

Sylvain jerked his head back, uncertain how to handle Claude’s helpfulness.

“I’d rather, see her, you know, myself?” Sylvain said, stumbling his words. He wasn’t sure he could trust him with such a personal manner.

“Oh no can do, you see Lena was _quite_ upset about something you did a while ago,” He said with a wink. “Don’t think she’s keen on you anymore.”

Sylvain sighed, head dropping to the side and crossed his arms. _What on earth did I even do?_

“Com’on, be quick. What you want?”

“I don’t know,” Sylvain pondered. He could tell his face was blushing and shifted in his feet. He wasn't used to sharing this omega part of himself with others. Curating his nest was relaxing 'him-time,' where he could dote on different scents, categorize them by breadth and how slick they got him. It was incredibly personal, and now he had to trust Claude, of all people, with the task. 

“You don’t know?”

“I don’t! I just—you know, something nice,” he said embarrassed. “You know-” and added sheepishly, “-woodsy-like.”

“ _Woodsy-like_?” Claude lifted his eyebrows, parroting his words back at him. “How ‘bout you make things easier and give me a name?”

Of course his mind immediately went to Felix, but he already had items from him. _But they_ _are_ _old,_ he thought before deciding best to keep that information away from the Alliance heir. Sylvain rolled his head at a loss of what to say. He never remembered names, just scents.

“Okay, fine. I get it,” Claude said, lifting up both arms in surrender, “I’ll getcha something ‘nice.’ Go wait by the laundry intake.” He turned to enter the building.

“Wait—“ Sylvain added. This wasn't the same town nearby Gautier Manor, there'd be all sorts of new alphas for him to test out. Could be exciting to find a new obsession. Claude turned to listen. “Maybe add something, you know, a little different?”

Claude gave him a two finger salute. “Sure thing friend.”

* * *

Sylvain waited more than ten minutes before Lena had jabbed a bag into his chest, leaving immediately without eye contact or a word. _Flames_ , _I really did piss her off._

No one was around so he dared a quick sniff at what had been selected. It was just a bag of dirty towels, but he got fragrances of fresh dirt (excellent), old parchment (workable) and… _floral?_ he thought, making a face. _I guess that’s different,_ he thought with a touch of disappointment. Accepting Claude had done a halfway decent job (although he would have pulled far more than 3 items) he made a note to thank him later and pulled the drawstring as tight as it’d go and headed towards his dorm.

He had anticipated spending a significant amount of time digging around the laundry room and, thanks to Claude, found his itinerary more open. It was only early evening. He stashed the items in his room and reasoned since the items had only been in a bag, it didn’t warrant enough scent transference for him to bathe.

 _Maybe I could stop by the training grounds. See what Felix wants,_ he thought, unconvinced he actually wanted him as a dueling partner. He knows a manipulation when he sees it and there was no way Felix had just casually dropped to Ingrid that he wanted to see him. It was extremely out of character for him to request anyone, let alone himself. He settled he would stop by the training grounds before taking off for the town then.

Maybe he could convince Felix to join him. He was always in a mood—perhaps getting laid would help him take some of that cold edge off. He’d offer personally, but he knew he disgusted his friends. And while he did have a tender spot for Fe, he himself was constantly saying he reeked regardless of when or how often he bathed.

An image of his brother, Miklan, sneering at him couldn’t help but enter his mind at the thought. A sadness tugged in his gut.

_It could be fun though,_ he thought, attempting to cheer himself up. _Going out together to find a partner for the night. At the very least we’d get to spend time together, like old times._

He resolved himself to ask.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Facts!  
> -If the fake idiot can scheme a scheme then certainly one can assume The Schemer schemed the scheme before the fake idiot even dreamt of the scheme  
> -Claude would have never in a million years pinned Sylvain as a “woodsy” type of omega
> 
> Gold star stickers to anyone who can guess who the 3 items Claude picked belong to.
> 
>  **Next Time:**  
>  A Subtle Duel (Sylvix Week 2020!)  
> The first time he had scented another alpha on him, he had felt like he’d seen flames and had needed excuse himself. Later that evening he found himself needing to permit himself to weep. His ruts grew more violent after that. Instead Felix had learned to cope, with varying degrees of success, with Sylvain waltzing about, smelling of those who were not him.
> 
> Follow my twitter @fearlesswindy1 for more preview tidbits and installment updates!


	4. A Subtle Duel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felix and Sylvain duel each other, but how much can Felix convince Sylvain it was only for training?
> 
> Published in juncture with Sylvix Week 2020 Day 5  
>  **Training/Sparring** | Promises | Myths & Legends AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Fun Facts!**  
>  -The beginning dialogue is pulled directly from the end of their C support.  
> -They use wooden training weapons at the training grounds.  
> -I dungeon master a lot so I hope ya'll enjoy fight choreography

#  **Chapter 4**

##  **—A Subtle Duel—**

**—Academy Phase—Mutiny in the Mist—Garland Moon—**

Sylvain asking him if he wanted to go out to find some partners had broken a nerve inside him he didn’t even know he had.

“You're _insatiable,_ ” he spits. “Do you ever stop? Certainly not to practice your sword technique. You always skip training,” He barks at the red head. “And you never consider how your actions hurt others…” _like me,_ he though before adding “...or how you hold them back.”

“That’s never my intention,” Sylvain responds earnestly. “Come on, you know me better than that. I'm not really— Look, if that's the impression I've given you, then I'm sorry,” he finishes, voice breaking slightly.

“Hmph.” _Great_. He upset him. Sylvain was naught to apologize with that tone that unless he had been hurt.

The two of them stand silently, the training grounds empty. Sylvain makes to move for the exit and Felix flourishes his sword, “Are were going to train or what?”

Sylvain looks at him, and then to the weapon rack. “Sure,” he says weakly and walks over to grab a lance.

“But I hope you don’t mind if I throw some magic at you. Hanneman taught us the thrilling ability to ‘calculate exact miasma spheres’ today,” he says, mocking the older professor. “A skill that’s sure to _woo_ you,” he adds sarcastically, taking a combative stance.

“I can handle it,” he responds, readying a stance of his own.

Felix lunges forward with a quick jab, not intending to make contact, but rather to gather intel. With the frequency at which Sylvain normally shows his face at the training grounds, Felix regrettably knew very little of his fighting style.

Sylvain confidently leans to the side to dodge, not bothering to take a side-step, and parries the jab with gentle brush of his lance, almost mocking him. _A cocky fool; should have known._ He’d need to be careful. These types tend to surprise you, deceiving you into letting down your guard before striking with their true force.

He repeats his mantra, e _lbows in, stance wide, chin up,_ and shuffles forward for four rapid strikes at his sides. His opponent taking the first blow to his left waist before jumping into defense, his lance rowing side-to-side, blocking the strikes.

In truth, Sylvain’s attempts at wooing him were unneeded as simply existing near proximity to him did the trick. A fact that left him on edge more often than not. They’d hadn’t spoken since the Grand Tourney two years back and he figured Sylvain would have asked by now if he had wanted him. They had certainly had multiple chances to do so growing up even before he had started whoring himself out.

He dodges an upward slice from the lance and dances around his foe. Cross-stepping away from a jab and watches his opponent pirouette around to send a second, more powerful jab that Felix parries easily.

The first time he had scented another alpha on him, he’d sworn he’d seen flames and had been forced to excuse himself. Later that evening he found himself needing to permit himself to weep. His ruts grew more violent after that. Instead Felix had learned to cope, with varying degrees of success, with Sylvain waltzing about, smelling of those who were not him.

His foe twirls the lance in his palms and Felix is able to eye the quick grip change in time to prepare a block. The blunt end of the lance meets his sword. _Clang-shing!_ Felix grounds his feet, bending his knees deep to absorb the blow, but it had still managed to rotate him, creating an opening. _A harder hit than I expected,_ he thought, bracing for an impact on his open side that never comes. Instead his foe had used the opportunity to weave his stance backwards.

 _Tsk, should have expected this_ , scolding himself. Felix immediately shifts strategy. His opponent is about to utilize the lance’s reach capabilities. There are definite advantages to using a pole arm, but for Felix nothing quite beat the intense mastery a blade requires.

He would need to work his way quickly through his offense, or be set at a disadvantage for the remainder of the fight. Defensively turning his body sideways, he calculates his next move.

He's pleased Sylvain had decided to show his face at the training grounds. He had been uncertain if telling Ingrid had worked. Sylvain _did_ need to train more often, but that was not his reason in requesting the specific dueling partner. No, he had forcibly become aware of Sylvain’s heat cycle, purely as a means to avoid him. Luckily, the man is set like a clock and while he couldn’t tell now, he knew he was close. Sure, the omegas typically took care of one another, but this is their first time away from Faerghus for an extended period of time…He wants to give him the chance to get anything he needs, even if he wouldn’t take it.

_Like Macuil’s Blade I’d let him know my reasonings though,_ he had thought when making the ‘offhand’ comment to Ingrid.

Making quick work to close the gap between them, Felix shuffles his feet forward, but never back, pausing his push only to absorb hits into his stance. _Elbows in, stance wide, chin up._ He delivers two quick slashes to the foe’s chest as he opens up for a wide swing, not realizing how fast Felix had closed the gap between them.

They make eye-contact.

His breath hitches, heart drops.

And Sylvain smiles.

The omega ducks, sending Felix’s momentum stumbling forward, his third strike impacting against the air. Sylvain guides the pole arm to sweep across the floor, attempting to trip him off his feet. Felix dodges it with an awkward skip and before he could look up, hears fire magic coming his way and shields his body, dashing to the side.

It was too late though, because as he rose from his shielded position, Sylvain had managed to get behind him and loop the lance across his stomach. With a sharp pull upwards he pins Felix’s arms, lance locking in his elbows above his head, body pressing against his back.

“Ah-arg!” Felix struggles.

“Gotcha,” Sylvain sings into his ear.

Instinctively he turns his head away from the sound, unknowingly sending his face into Sylvain’s collarbone. A wave of dizziness pulses through him as the fresh scent of fallen snow assaults his nose. The closeness of the grapple welcomed the confirmation of Sylvain’s encroaching heat.

“Ugh!” He jerks his head away from the collarbone before he could lose himself, and twitches against the lance, pressing away from Sylvain. He lets the grip loose with a laugh, allowing them to separate.

“Admit it, I won,” Sylvain says with a chuckle.

Felix stalks away silently to his belongings on the ground, increasing the distance between them. _That was smarter than I can give him credit for._ _He managed to predict my movements perfectly._ He grumbles and crouches down to grab a small towel from his bag and begins to wipe the sweat off his brow.

“Your technique’s sloppy-” moving the rag to his cheeks, “-and your footwork is miserable-” dabbing it on his throat and collarbone, breathing heavily.

“Yeah, yeah and I reek too, so what’s new?” Sylvain says.

“Tch,” Felix let out, stifling a laugh. _Quite the opposite,_ he thinks _,_ finally moving the towel to the back of his neck, making sure to motion it across both scent glands. He stands and turns to face him again, dropping his arm.

“Fe,” Sylvain says softly, tone suddenly serious, “You don’t have to—“

“Train with you?” Felix spits at him before he could finish, throwing the rag hard across the room to emphasize his annoyance. “I’m well aware.”

They stare at each other for two long breaths.

_Was I too obvious?_

Before he could worry any more, Sylvain cracks a stupid smile. “Hey, you were the one who asked _me_ here remember?” he says, teasing him now. Using a knuckle to brush his nose, sniffling and adds “‘sides, seems to me my technique isn’t as sloppy as you think.”

“Didn’t you hear what I said earlier,” Felix says still irritated. He makes his way across the room, heading towards the weapon rack. “Or is that space between your ears truly only occupied with women-” he pulls a different sword, “-and no care whatsoever for others.”

He tests the balance of sword, and knows, unlike the sword he just used, it’s something he’s more akin to.

“I said I’m sorry,” Sylvain responds, tone more serious.

“Then prove it by showing up to training.” He turns to face the wall, giving a few test swings of his preferred practice sword. “I’ve grown tired of you. Leave.”

He continues with a few more practice swings until he hears feet moving behind him followed by the opening and closing of doors.

Tension releases in his body with a harsh exhale, sword dropping to his side. It was as if he’d been holding his breath since Sylvain entered the grounds. He turns and looks across the ground, scanning with intense focus.

The smallest of smiles graces his lips. Sad, but present.

The rag was gone.

* * *

Sylvain exits the training grounds, Felix’s freshly scent-marked sweat rag tucked into his back pocket.

 _Yeah,_ he smiles knowingly, walking with a slight skip to his step, _we’re good._ And decides to grab dinner and call it a night instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Next Time**  
>  Beneath  
> He looked over to where Sylvain had finally found perch next to Ingrid and the Boar, and was taken aback to see his golden-brown eyes staring right at him. Their eyes met and Sylvain broke contact first by quickly looking down with slight embarrassment. 'That’s right,' he sneered, 'you know what you did.'
> 
> Also get ready for a new relationship tag and some serious angst next chapter! New chapter drops on Sunday!
> 
> Please consider letting me know your thoughts on the work in the comments :)
> 
> Follow my twitter @fearlesswindy1 for more preview tidbits and installment updates!


	5. Beneath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Blue Lions return from their mission against Lord Lonato. Sylvain's heat breaks. Felix overhears something deeply unsettling, and makes a new friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New relationship tag! 
> 
> Little bit of time skipping here, and switching POVs. I hope it's not too confusing.
> 
> This chapter also comes with some unique TWs regarding Sylvain, be sure to check the notes at the end of the chapter.
> 
> As always, would love to hear your feedback and comments :) I'm excited to finally be getting into some meat of the story.

#  **_Chapter 5_ **

##  **_—Beneath—_ **

**—Academy Phase—The Goddess’ Right of Rebirth—Blue Sea Moon—**

His knew his heat had broken from the sound of his breath evening out. Slowly he opened his eyes, looking into the pre-dawn sky gently illuminating his room, feeling the desire leave his body and the ache set in. The heat had been more intense than he was accustomed to. Being around so many alpha scents all the time must have done him in. But despite there being so many eligible alphas around, he was alone, laying in his lust-soaked sheets and allowed himself to keep his eyes closed, to stay motionless for a moment longer.

The hazy-brained feeling of a heat breaking was the only time he allowed himself to just be him. The emptiness that had just plagued him, he could now embrace. No pretending to be dumb, or carefree—making others laugh so they wouldn’t see his pain; just the miserable, unwanted, undesirable Sylvain. Nobody needed him to be anything in this moment, not even himself. He both hated it and loved it; wanted to be left alone and at the same time be held close to someones heart. But slowly, as the heat died down and his brain regained control the voice crept in, as it did every time.

“You’re, lying,” he whispered out loud.

 _' **I overheard them myself! They all agreed,'** _the insidious voice of his brother hissed in his ear.

“You’re wrong. Go away,” he hisses, shutting his eyes, squeezing them, begging his brother to leave him be.

_' **Don’t believe me then? Just ask Dad. You’re more unwanted than me now.** '_

“Go away, go away, go away!” He said, chanting the phrase into a shout, throwing a pillow across the room in frustration. There was no one there, but it was to enough to chase Miklan away for the time being.

He brought his left fist to his lips; Felix’s torn shirt wrapped around it as if it was still the day he’d place it there, and took a deep inhale. The scent was old, barely clinging to the fabric and mixed in with his own blood from the incident, but it grounded him back to reality. Miklan was gone and had been chased out for years now, but he hated how his words still haunted him. He moved to slowly unwrap the dressings covering a long-healed scar and began the methodical process of donning his mask again.

He moved about his room with a gentle ache, analyzing and nitpicking the items of his newly formed academy nest, folding up the sheets—replacing them with a set he’d prepared, and opened the windows. The surprise gift from Felix had been the his most beloved item during the heat, but the items Claude had picked out were highlights of their own accord.

The dirt scented towel was earthy and fresh like newly tilled soil during the early autumn. He had pictured rough hands upon his hips, ploughing into him at first gently, before taking him on a bumpy, slick ride. The old parchment scent, on the other hand, had gifted him to thoughts of a beautiful flighty alpha. One he’d have to chase after and beg repeatedly to pleasure him. He was pretty sure that thought alone had been his entire Tuesday.

The floral one though? That had been laughably thrown into the corner at the beginning of his heat. _Does he really take me as a floral kind of omega? Really,_ he thought as he shoved the offending towel into the washing bag while the rest had been lovingly put away. He’d need to tell Claude not to pull that again.

A bit a sleep and a long bath later, he made his way to greet the Blue Lions at the dining hall. Curiosity got the better of him and he meandered around, pretending to see the morning’s selection, while attempting to suss out the owners of the new items.

The floral scent belonged to Lorenz. _Figures, he always has that obnoxious rose on him. Does he seriously think that’ll actually attract him an omega?_

 _' **Not like you’d attract an alpha who’d actually love you.'** T_he intrusive thought came and went quickly, and Sylvain rubbed the back of his neck and scent gland to comfort himself, his persona smiling for him as he moved on.

It was at the food line where he identified the owner of earthy scent. _Raphael?_ _Huh…that’s…unexpected._ He gave him a quick one-over, trying to keep his composure as if he hadn't just spend the last five days vigorously fucking himself. He typically didn’t go for the male alphas, but he wasn’t exactly mated to the idea of _only_ female alphas. In fact one of his early conquests had been a male stablehand from the Fraldarius Dukedom when he was seventeen. The way he had lapped at his scent gland had made his knees go weak. And of course there had been that one time with Dimitri…He slopped some food on his tray, _Yeah, I can work with that,_ he concluded.

The parchment alpha alluded his nose, however, causing him to anxiously rub at his neck again, and he resigned himself to finally sit and eat.

“So what’d I miss?” Sylvain said, seating himself between Ingrid and Dorothea. They all had returned back to Garreg Mach two days prior, having completed their mission in taking down the rebelling Lord Lonato.

“It was…” Dorothea started out.

“Most unfortunate, really,” Dimitri finished, himself seated across the table.

“Ashe is—” Ingrid added solemnly, “-he’s a bit of a mess from it, to be honest.”

“I don’t blame him for being angry,” Dorothea said sadly.

“Well the Church said he was a traitor, I don’t see what the big deal is,” Sylvain responded, grabbing a roll; Goddess, he was starving.

“Sylvain!” the three of them rang simultaneously.

“Whaah?” He shrugged and swallowed his bite quickly, sensing Ingrid’ eyes burrowing holes into him. “It wasn’t like we were the ones who sentenced him or anything. That was all the Archbishop’s doing,” he said, taking another bite, hunger consuming most of his worries.

“I can’t believe you right now,” Ingrid huffed. Dorothea, disgusted, stood up with her tray and walked around to sit by Ingrid.

Sylvain ate with gusto while the others stared at him in disbelief.

Finally, the leader of the Blue Lions spoke. “While we may have just been following orders,” he began, “It’s important to remind ourselves the lives we take will always have an impact on those who remain.”

A wave of guilt hit him. _Shit._ He’d been so focused on his own pain and hunger, he’d completely forgotten about the hardships both Ingrid and Dimitri had gone through.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Guess I just don’t know Ashe very well,” he added, trying to make himself not seem as heartless.

He could imagine how he was feeling. He recalled the effect the Tragedy had had on all three of his friends. They had turned into different people during that time and to an extent still are. Ingrid disappeared for a year following it, reemerging only after she had presented; Dimitri, despite loosing everyone, seemed the most unaffected, showing only a few cracks here and there; and Felix… _wait where is Felix?_

He looked down the table to see him seated with, of all people, Petra.

“Whaa’s Phelicks’h doin’ hangin’ out wiff Phetra?” He asked, not caring about the food in his mouth despite a groan from Ingrid. He was starved.

“She had assisted us on the mission,” Dorothea responded, giving Ingrid’s hand a calming pat.

“The Professor is saying she might join our class as well,” Dimitri added, referring back to when Dorothea had joined them the month prior.

It made enough sense. Sylvain couldn’t believe more of the Black Eagle house hadn’t joined them already. Professor Hanneman’s teaching style was definitely less than to be desired.

“Huh,” Sylvain said, grabbing another roll, compulsively watching his friend down the table be suspiciously talkative with the foreign beta—once again finding himself trying to keep his composure as if Felix’s scent hadn’t been on his lips the entire past week.

* * *

They had returned from their mission late and Felix was exhausted. Ashe had not followed them back to the dormitories, but instead took his frustrations to the cathedral. Ingrid and Mercedes said they’d follow to make sure he was alright. They all knew he wasn’t; the Boar had just maimed his adoptive father at behest of the Church. The Professor should have been the one to do it, but for some reason she had stepped aside to block a measly strike from hitting Annette and the Boar made it to the treacherous Lord instead. Felix had turned his head away in alarm, not wishing to see the Boar’s violent nature once again.

Annette still had taken some damage during the battle and Mercedes, for some reason only known to the Goddess herself, had offloaded her onto him with a cheery smile when she had gone off with Ingrid. Her arm draped over his shoulder and he stood there, awkwardly supporting her. _Why me?_

“Can you walk?” He asked, hoping to avoid the situation. They were all tired, and his patience was growing thin.

“I just, ah-h-” she tried putting weight on her injured side, “-need someone to lean against, I think.”

“Fine. I’ll take you to Manuela.”

“Oh, no, really, Mercie patched me up beforehand. I just need to rest,” she said, leaning her head into him.

“Hrmph.” He guided them back to the dorms.

At that proximity it was impossible to avoid scenting each other. He tried to focus is brain away from it, thinking about the battle, sword maintenance, training, literally anything really, but the sweet smell from the injured omega danced about his nose. He didn’t need this; he was already more agitated than usual, a sign of his rut due at the end of the month, but her scent was… _nice, I suppose._ She smelled of linen and honey, which would normally be too sweet for his tastes, but mixed with the remnants of battle it had struck a halfway decent balance.

“What’s that noise? Are you humming?” He chided her.

“Oh! No! Nothing!…” she laughed it off awkwardly, burying her face into his cloak. Or was she nuzzling against him? _Ugh, whatever. It doesn’t matter._ He just wanted to get to bed.

He helped her up the stairs and down the long hall of the nobles’ dorms. The building had been constructed with the three Goddess granted sexes in mind. The walls were thick stone, and each door had it’s own custom lock to prevent any unwanted mingling. While the doors were weighty, noise did sometimes escape them, occasionally fueling idol rumors and gossip Felix had no care for.

They reached Annette’s room and Felix ducked to release her from the grip around him, turning silently to head towards his own for a good night’s rest.

“Felix?” She said meekly.

He turned impatiently. She started at him doe-eyed.

“Oh, um….just, thank you!” she said, quickly closing the door behind her.

_What a weird girl._

He had been a quarter of the way down the hall when the noise struck fear into his heart, his hairs lifting on edge; a breathy moan from an omega in heat had caught his ears.

“ _…ahhh-h….feee…._ ”

Eyes wide, he looked sideways to see he had stopped himself in front of Sylvain’s door. He could have sworn he heard him say his name. _No, that’s impossible. I’m just hearing things._ He tried to move, but his body betrayed him, wanting to listen in longer. He resolved himself to stay glued to his spot, anxious of what he was capable of doing.

Faint moans emitted from the door, with the occasional audible word. _“Mine…don’t…feee...”_ Then he heard the unmistakable sound of an orgasm.

Color drained from his face, his hands unconsciously clenched upon hearing the omega’s cry of ecstasy. _How could you,_ he thought with rage, _how dare you,_ he stumbled back into the wall fully aware of his hardness, failing to retain his composure. _How dare you stand before his presence. I’m not worthy. I don’t deserve this. I have not won him yet._

The hall went silent naught for his heavy, panicked breath. He peeled himself off the wall and slowly made his way back to his dorm. _Cichol’s ass, that Goddess-damned bastard,_ he thought, clumsily opening his door.

He swore at his father, his meekness having robbed him; at the Margrave’s stubbornness; at Sylvain’s torturous chasing of alpha after alpha. He swore upon Glenn’s bodiless grave at his own weakness and inability to claim his one desire. He cursed at Annette for slowing him down, and at Mercedes who had left her with him. He swore at the Goddess and all four of her Saints until there was no anger left in is body, leaving him only with lust.

 _He wrecks me,_ he thought once he had found a small release in his own palm. He stifled a whine with a grimace and closed his eyes shut tight so the tears wouldn’t fall out.

They fell anyways.

* * *

Sylvain had just noisily entered the dining hall, finally making an appearance from his self-sequestered heat. Felix’s eyes immediately flickered to him and stalked his movement about the hall.

“Felix?”

 _Look at him, parading himself about like a prize,_ he thought, watching him wander about, _trying to cover his scent glands in vain, worthlessly unaware of his actions._

“Felix?”

 _Why can’t he just sit down in peace?_ He grumbled silently. _I can’t take this teasing._

“Felix, are you lacking your ears?”

“Hrm? What?” Felix managed to snap his attention back to Petra, who had asked to share a meal with him.

“I had been saying, I believe the Fodlan way of fighting may be beneficial to be mastering,” Petra said. “I would have gratitude if you would train with me.”

He looked at the Brigid Princess. Her hair was a deep, crimson red, braided more intricately than a horse’s mane, draped around her temples and neck. A scar in the shape of a triangle decorating her high cheekbones, along with her tanned skin, revealed her true home before her broken Fodlanian ever would. She was utterly unique in comparison to the rest of Garreg Mach and Felix found himself not minding her company. It was her skill with the blade that interested him in her, not her beauty.

“I would welcome that,” he responded in reverence. “You’re skill during last month’s tourney impressed me. Perhaps you could teach me some Brigid technique.”

Her face twisted into extreme delight at the mention of her homeland. He had meant to just compliment her technique, but ended up feeling like he had hit on her. He mentally cursed at himself. _That fool has me all wound up._

“Oh that would fill me with much joy! Not many in Fodlan seem to be having a desire to learn the ways of Brigid,” she elated.

“They’re likely to be dead fools if they were to meet with your blade, then. Something I intend on not being.”

“Then we have understanding!” She lifted a rotated fist to her chest and gave a curt bow of the head. A traditional sign of respect he presumed. She had definitely impressed him in battle, but he guessed he must have impressed her as well at some point. His skills were good, but he was far from becoming the master he’d need to be. This bow though. It flattered him in a way that was…unexpected? Something twisted in his gut. Maybe even alluring. She was a beauty in her own right after all. To see someone bow before his skills was— _No, dammit that’s just the stupid idiot moaning in your head._

“When can I expect you?” He asked, hating to be surprised during his times alone at the grounds.

“Oh you will not be worrying about that. The Professor has agreed to allow me transfer into the Blue Lion house. We will be training plenty together now!”

 _Ah…_ he nodded to acknowledge her statement, but realized he may have just gotten more than he bargained for.

They ate in silence for a few moments.

“What was taking your mind?” She asked.

“What do you mean?” He muttered, her meaning lost on him.

“You had the eyes of a hunter stalking a deer in the forest,” she said, teasing him in an animated way.

“What?” He scoffed at the display. As if he’d been that obtuse in watching Sylvain.

She laughed, “You are an alpha are you not? You must be close to the time of great desire.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said angrily. He respected her, but she was starting to get on his nerves.

She taps her nose, “The beta’s of Brigid have keen noses for such times.”

“You going to lock me in my room?” He admitted.

“There have been many deaths in battle due to the unfulfilled great desire,” she warned darkly.

He understood immediately. While he wished he could say with confidence he’d never act out, he knew his ruts were violent compared to other alphas. His worthless father had once tried to assist him by hiring a courtesan who was supposed to train it out of him. It had failed miserably and he ended up nearly harming the stablehand when he was fifteen.

Over the years he had learned the best practices to avoid hurting anyone. It mainly involved removing all his weapons and furniture from the room, and a thick, locked door. There wasn’t much else he could do.

He looked over to where Sylvain had finally found perch next to Ingrid and the Boar, and was taken aback to see his golden-brown eyes staring right at him. Their eyes met and Sylvain broke contact first by quickly looking down with slight embarrassment. _That’s right,_ he sneered, _you know what you did._

“You don’t have to worry,” he finally said after a short pause.

“Good, for I am having gratitude for your abilities during the battle against the Western Church. It would bring me joy to fight alongside you again,” she remarked.

She had nearly taken a fatal hit at the start of their last mission. Felix had seen the fog part in time to lend her a block; she had screamed, “I will remove you!” and deftly took the opponent down using a full lower cut containing such force it had dumbfounded Felix at the time. He intended to hone that skill himself through this arrangement.

“I feel the same.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Past abuse/trauma, hearing voices
> 
>  **Fun Facts!**  
>  -The high number of times Petra crits in my playthroughs just _does_ things to me and Felix is not immune either.  
> -Yes, that is a divine pulse reference with Annette  
> -Mercedes is the best wingman  
> -Sylvix is very much endgame worry ye not
> 
>  **Next Time:**  
>  Brigid Prowess  
> “Bern, you mentioned kissing,” Dorothea said, trying to keep the frantic alpha on task.“Oh it was terrible! The scary-faced one with sword was with Petra! Oh he’s going to kill me, I just know it!” she said miserably.  
> “‘Scary-faced,’…’sword?’ Wait you don’t happen to mean Felix do you?”
> 
> Rating bump to E, chapter drops on Tuesday.


	6. Brigid Prowess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Petra provides Felix with some much needed assistance before their mission in the Holy Mausoleum.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Story rating upped to E with this update. Making use of the rarepair relationship tag, but keep in mind Sylvix is very much so end game <3
> 
> cw at the end of the chapter!

#  **_Chapter 6_ **

##  **_—Brigid Prowess—_ **

**—Academy Phase—The Goddess’ Right of Rebirth—Blue Sea Moon—**

As promised Felix had spent most of the month training with Petra. Her value had proved to be an immensely gratifying distraction against his struggling pre-rut attitude. She seemed to be one of the few people who could take his hits without protest. In fact, it seemed to fuel her desire to learn even more. Every mistake she made, she’d eagerly asked him how to correct. Then, during their day training with the Professor he’d see her working on his corrections. It was a habit he reflected with her teachings on Brigid swordplay.

Sparring with Petra felt easy, too easy, like falling into your bed after a long day, or placing your feet up by a warm fire; at it's core, it had a naturalness to it. It was both familiar and new, comforting and challenging. He wouldn’t have continued on with their late night training sessions had it not.

It had taken him a week to realize what exactly made him feel this way: their sessions together were reminiscent of his times dueling Glenn. He had expected the realization to anger him more, but pleasantly found it to be bittersweet, like repairing a broken sword after a long fought battle. It almost would have brought him an ounce of joy had it not been for the Goddess-damn Gautier omega moaning in his head incessantly. They hadn't stopped since he'd first witnessed them in the hallway almost a month prior. Trying to place thoughts of Sylvain aside, he chalked up the growing feelings of friendship towards Petra as merely chasing away a ghost in possession of a prize he could no longer obtain.

“You’re sure your rut won’t interfere with our plans?” The Professor had inquired after one training session. The personal question had taken him aback, forgetting for a brief moment the Professor had all their calendars. She had asked him with such ease; as if she was inquiring after the blueness of the sky above them or if he’d be training late again. _Then again she is a beta,_ he reasoned. To a certain extent it was a beta’s duty to pass interference and ensure everyone was well and unharmed, and laying willfully with their partners. Or maybe it was that she was unaware of the invasiveness of the question; there was so much about the world she seemed to have never learned—not that Felix minded, all that matter to him was her skill in combat.

“I’m fine,” Felix huffed back, still hearing the distant orgasmic cry in the back of his mind, neck burning.

“Hmm,” she accepted, responding emotionlessly.

They were tasked with securing the Monastery during the Goddess’ Rite of Rebirth, but had agreed as a house where the real threat would be—The Holy Mausoleum. The ritual was in a few days with his rut being a little over a week away and he was hoping to channel some of his aggressive energy out in battle before needing to lock himself up.

The Professor must have been prompted to ask such a question when she saw him make a few inexcusable mistakes. He had let his gut guide his strikes inside of his mind and ended up leaving himself open for too long allowing Petra to get in a few too many strikes with her axe.

Thankfully the Professor let him be after his response leaving space for Petra to approach. “I was able to strike you down with amazing ease,” she said incredulously. She hadn’t been able to hit him with an axe at all until just then. “Are you having the illness?”

“I’m fine. Just hungry. I’m going to the dining hall,” he growled, replacing his sword into the arms rack and walking out of the grounds. He wasn’t hungry, but needed to keep up the pretense. He wasn’t about to let his piss poor attitude get in the way of a good battle ahead.

***

Petra narrowed her eyes at her sparring partner as he left the grounds, not believing him for a single second. _This will not do,_ she thought and turned to find the Professor, a plan already forming.

* * *

Felix was on hunting duty the day before the ritual and was waiting on the edge of the forest for Ashe to show. The sun had barely lifted above the horizon and he found himself staring longingly at the colors while fidgeting impatiently with his fletching. Despite the summer heat, there was still a mild chill to the air at this time of day and he could at least enjoy the cool air against his balmy skin while he waited. He loathed the heat and hoped to have a buck killed before the midday heat. He shifted in his hip—Ashe was late—repeatedly bouncing his heel, an unusual anxious habit he found himself with this morning.

It didn’t help hunting was towards the bottom of his preferred school tasks. He’d think most would be surprised to learn he’d rather be assigned cooking or even shopping duty before this. And it was all because of that Gautier omega.

The ridiculous hunt his father had dragged him on only months after Glenn’s passing had left more than its fair share of sour tastes in his mouth. There was hearing the whines of Sylvain calling to him, finding him severely injured, panicking to help him while fearing another boar would charge at them, goring them both; and the worst of all, learning his father had made a complete mockery of himself on his behalf, permanently loosing any chance the Margrave would consider him as a rightful mate to his son. The thought alone boiled his blood.

He looked down and closed his eyes, hoping the sound of the morning birds would calm him, but instead listened to the voice of Sylvain moaning yet again. _He had to have said my name, there’s no other—_ He bit his lip to stop a frustrated groan from leaving his mouth. _I should just find him, force him to speak my name and then I'll know for sure. Then I'll-_

 _Stop._ He calmed his breathing. 

_Shit, maybe it’s time to tell the Professor I can’t make it,_ he thought. _She’d need to completely redraft their formations, it’d be a pain, but she’d understand,_ he thought with a sigh, only to look up from the ground sharply, _Dammit, Petra—she’d be left without a flank,_ feeling a wave of guilt.

Twigs cracked behind him. He nocked an arrow and turned swiftly. “Who’s there,” he said before his vision could orient. He quickly found the words to be irrelevant because as if he’d summoned her with his thoughts, Petra had dropped from a tree.

“What are you doing?” he hissed.

“I awaited to see if you would be finding me,” she giggled.

“This isn’t some game of hide and seek. And I’m not in the mood to spar either, I’m waiting for Ashe so we can finally hunt,” he said, annoyance thickly covering each word.

“Oh I am having awareness. I asked the Professor if I could be switching with Ashe.”

“Why?” He spoke before he had thought.

As soon as the question left his mouth he’d already reasoned it out. Ashe was still moping about due to last month’s mission. He’d been staying up late at the cathedral. Petra must have noticed and requested the switch. He expected her to say ‘because Ashe hasn’t been sleeping well’ so he was shocked when she responded with “Because you are needing assistance.”

“I’m fine,” he spat, not thinking. He knew he wasn’t. He had just been thinking of abandoning the mission, leaving her without a flanking support.

“Then we shall hunt!” she said, surprising him yet again. He for sure had expected some form of resistance, maybe even a lecture or scolding like Ingrid was ought to do. But no, Petra was right to the task, something he was appreciative of. _She really does take everyone at their word,_ he thought, pitying her lack of full understanding.

They headed into the woods just outside the Monastery’s walls, creeping slowly through the tall oaks and expansive broadleafs. She quickly loosed two arrows, succeeding in downing a hare while his had flown wide. She was a natural born hunter and while his bow skills weren’t great to begin with, but he knew his grip on the weapon had been too tense. He offered to clean and tie up the hare so they could continue onward and she managed to down another one while he did so. They moved silently deeper into the woods, working quickly and effectively.

“Yes,” she said, breaking the long silence, looking at the surroundings. “This will do.” She threw the two hares over a low hanging branch, letting the dangle.

“What you doing? We still have more to get,” he said confused. Hunting made him antsy on top of his existing pre-rut agitation. Better to be done with this as soon as possible.

She walked towards him and said, “I’m here to be giving you assistance.”

'I’m not in the mood to train,' was what he wanted to say, but instead she got even closer to his body and turned her lips inches way from his ear. “You are nearing the great desire, Felix,” she said, deepening her vocal tones. He could feel the heat of her breath on his skin, chasing away the cool morning air. He wished to say he was fine again, but he swallowed hard as his body shuddered in a betraying manner.

He chose to take a step back instead. He stared at her in disbelief, she looking back coyly.

 _She can’t be seriously thinking, could she? But she’s—and I—_ his thoughts were moving too fast to process, his hands twitching again, needing a purpose.

“You are wishing to be fighting tomorrow, yes? And I am wishing to be having eyes on my back again, like with the Western Church, yes?”

His breath was elevated and everything seemed to be somehow brighter now. He couldn’t think, so he just listened.

“Then I am to be doing my duty as beta and provide assistance. So you may fight and not be thinking of the great desire,” she concluded.

“We’re out in broad daylight,” he muttered through closed teeth.

“We shall be having privacy here, the forest speaks to me,” she said, dropping her voice again, moving closer. She lifted her hands in a disarming manner, like he could lash out at her at any moment. They found their rest on his hips. He didn’t resist. “And I listen,” she said with a sultry tone, barely a whisper.

She tilted her head, leaned in close, nose barely nuzzling up and down the hairs on his neck. He shuddered and inhaled sharply, scents of the dangling fresh kills in the air. She pulled back slightly, leaving their bodies near touching, to look at him and waited. He gazed into her red-brown eyes and then closed his, wishing to instead see the golden-flecks he craved, a distant moan wailing in the background.

“I want to fight,” he whispered to her. A lie, but it would do. What he really craved was the release of Sylvain’s chokehold on him. To be rid of his haunting moans and to have his rut in peace.

She wordlessly moved back to her position at his neck, slowly increasing the pressure of her nose tip with each nodding pass, scenting him beautifully. He slowly began to unravel the pent up energy he'd been carrying with him, allowing himself to open up to his baser instincts, remaining fearful of what lesser being may seep out. Her full lips could be felt skimming the surface and he placed his hands upon her shoulders, dragging his right thumb across her shoulder blade, feeling her bones as he did so. For being so strong, she had such a slender frame. _Much like myself_ , he mused and continued exploring her body, fingering over each vertebrae of her neck until he found a light grip at the base of her skull, other hand moving to the small of her back. _I bet she could take me,_ he thought darkly.

With a moan she opened her mouth to give a big lap of the tongue over his scent gland. His eyes flew wildly open, a sensation that instantly melted his insides, a weight lifting off his shoulders and groaned loudly. It was as if she had held the key to his tension this whole time and with a lick of her tongue released it him from his chains. He grunted and gripped her tighter, and she responded quickly by licking at his neck feverishly, soft moans and grunts escaping every now and then. Felix moved to place his hand lower, weaving it past her firm grip on his hips, landing home on her thigh. He squeezed, lifting her leg, skirt rising as he slid it higher.

And then she bit into him.

It wasn’t a hard bite, and it certainly wasn’t near his scent gland where a mating mark would be placed. It was more like a playful nibble, but it was unwelcomed nonetheless. He hissed at her, yanking her head back.

His neck was reserved for one person only, and she was a far cry from it. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that didn’t make sense, that she had just been pleasuring him insistently there, and that he had been enjoying it greatly. But now it felt soul-crushing. His alpha mind screamed for something that he knew wasn’t his, but it didn’t matter. Her hair was too deep a color, eyes too brown, frame too thin, and it was just all _wrong_.

In an instant, he pushed her off of him, pressing her back into the nearby tree. She hissed out a swear he didn't recognize as she collided with the bark, but he didn't care. Lunging forward he grabbed her neck, cutting off her airway and silencing her. 

“No,” he growled, teeth barred. There should have been fear in her eyes, but she started at him calmly. It was enough to throw him off. _She’s just a tool to be used so I could return to normal thoughts for one more day,_ his forebrain said, finally kicking in.

 _So use her,_ the hindbrain responded.

He loosened his grip on her neck, hearing her exhale, and changed to embrace her face, kissing her. Her lips were soft, and full, but he didn’t care to take the time to appreciate them. He was full of a want he wished to be rid of. The great desire as she had called it. Keeping one had on her face, he returned his hand to her thigh, aggressively pushing her skirt up towards her hips now, reaching around to squeeze her ass, not caring to appreciate it's tone, but only needing something to grip on. He pushed into her, grinding his hips against her exposed stockings. He was kissing her wildly now, biting her lips, their teeth clattering together and moaned loudly once he had broken her lip, blood tasting upon his tongue. He moved to her neck to finally scent her and—stopped all movement.

 _Oh fuck,_ he thought, deflating, pushing through the haze, _beta’s don’t have scent glands._

She seized the moment to push back and flip him around, his spine hitting hard against the wide, broadleaf tree bark. She pressed into him and lapped at his gland until he was growling with need. Suddenly, he felt a hand massaging into his hardened dick. Pleasure in the form of a full mouthed gasp of rocketed out of his mouth, and she hummed with delight from his display. He rhythmically rocked into the sensation, cock pressing through layers of clothing into her hand, grunting with need. He hadn’t realized just how touch-starved he’d been.

“Hmm, you are closer than I had been thinking,” she hummed into his neck. “Will you be treating me as prey?” Though the thought delighted him, he was thankfully aware enough to understand her meaning.

“Stop teasing and get on with it,” he said between grunts. She giggled and kneeled beneath him to fuss with the lacing of his breeches. His alpha mind couldn’t help but moan at the sight of another beneath him, omega or not, preparing to pleasure him. He took a gentle hand to her face and caressed her right as she freed his dick from its confines.

 _Sweet Cethleann!_ She took his full length into her mouth, his back arching, shoulders pressing into the harsh bark. He could feel her tongue stroking his hardened vein, head pressing into the back of her throat. His surroundings disappeared, focusing only the blissful pleasure her mouth could provide. Unwilling to make more noise than he already had he mashed his teeth together and looked down at the divine beta beneath him. The hair was still wrong, _too long,_ he thought, but at this point it was close enough.

He needed more. More thrust, more tightness, more—he hissed—just more of her, but was losing his composure, having already slid halfway down the trunk.

She pulled back with a hearty _pop!_ of the head upon her lips, a spindle of drool connecting to the tongue hanging outside her mouth.

She reached for his thigh and unlatched the dagger from his holster and pulled it free. His dick bounced with excitement, eyes wide, causing the head to gently bop her chin. She pulled her arm back quickly and stabbed it forward, sending an aroused panic through him that subdued upon hearing it hit the tree beside him.

“Hold,” she commanded. He grasped the hilt of his dagger, and pushed himself up, ass scraping against the bark. It was the perfect leverage he needed. She returned to him, placing her hand at his slightly swollen base, humming to send soft vibrations around the head.

“ _More_ ,” he groaned. She increased tempo, but it wasn’t enough with his growing knot. “ _More_!” He growled loudly, grabbing her head, digging his nails in deep to show her how. He thrusted into her mouth, her hands massaging at his now fully-formed knot.

He closed his eyes listening to the heavenly chorus of noises Sylvain had produced through that forbidden door, only now his brain was supplying him with his full name being moaned by the delicious omega. He managed to choke out a noise of warning before he hinged forward, his sweet release spewing outwards. Petra had moved out of the way as he collapsed forward onto his knees, holding tightly still to the dagger in the tree. “Ssssly—“ he struggled to cut himself off, wanting to gasp out his name in perfect harmony along with the one inside his mind.

Petra remained at his side, massaging him and having the wherewith all to not snuggle against him like a lover would. It was a transactional position she held, one of which he’d be paying back tomorrow.

Once the pleasure had passed, Petra stood up away from him. He heard her take out a waterskin and swish out her mouth while cum continued to shoot out of him in waves. Slowly, but surely the waves ceased and he stood to lace himself back up.

“And now you can fight,” she said satisfied, pouring the water to wash away his seed into the earth, kicking some leaves over the mess.

Leaning against the tree still, he closed his eyes to slow down his breath and heard nothing but the birds chipping in the sweet summer air. He mustered a grunt of affirmation.

* * *

Dorothea was reading through a letter she had received, when she’d turned a corner too tightly and bumped into somebody.

“WAH-AH! I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sor-REY!!”

“Ah Bern! I didn’t see you there,” Dorothea said, pleasantly surprised. It was unusual to be seeing her friend outside of her room.

“I didn’t see anyone! Nope! Nothing! And they certainly weren’t kissing!”

“Whoa, Bern, what are you talking about?” Dorothea said, now concerned. There were certainly some unsavory alphas running around at Gerrag Mach despite higher ups claiming the place to be ‘filled with nothing but dutiful, respectful officers-in-training.’ Bern might had witnessed something terrible happening.

“Nnn-ah! I was just minding my own business! It wasn’t my fault!”

“Bern, calm down. It’s me, Dorothea. We’re friends remember? You can tell me anything,” she said trying to sooth her friend.

“Oh! oh. yeah,” she said, recognizing her not as an enemy finally. “I _was_ just minding my business though! I thought ‘Wow, Bernie wouldn’t it be great to watch the sun rise before any one else is up or around, you know, like Caspar had shown you,’” she said wistfully.

“Bern, you mentioned kissing,” she said, trying to keep the frantic alpha on task.  
“Oh it was terrible! The scary-faced one with sword was with Petra! Oh he’s going to kill me, I just know it!” she said miserably.

“‘Scary-faced,’…’sword?’ Wait you don’t happen to mean Felix do you?”

 _“EEP!_ I don’t want to ~diiiiie~” she howled, bolting off at an astounding speed.

Dorothea didn’t know Felix too well yet, but from what Ingrid had shared he didn’t seem like any of those slimy alphas she knew of. _Not to mention Petra’s a beta…so that didn’t make sense. They have been seen spending quite a lot of time together at the training grounds though…and he doesn’t seem very interested in any omegas,_ recalling her own failed attempted.

 _Oh,_ her mouth dropped open slightly, realization finally hitting.

Oh this was some _news_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Hunting, animal death, blow job, slight knife play
> 
>  **Fun Facts!**  
>  -I'm not saying Dorothea made the pikachu :o face, but she very well may have  
> -Dorothea and Bernie B support unlocked! 
> 
> **Next Time**  
>  The Broken Heart Left Behind  
> Ingrid and Dorothea split POV chapter!  
> “Hi, I don’t think we’ve met yet. I’m Dorothea Arnault, Black Eagle house,” said the tall brunette. She leaned in to present a hand to shake, lifting her chin in such a way that allowed Ingrid to smell she was omega. Somehow, someway, she smelled more amazing than the meat Ingrid was in line for. 
> 
> Plus a new relationship tag :)


	7. The Broken Heart Left Behind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ingrid, presumed omega, was once promise-mated to alpha Glenn Fraldarius. Then he was killed and she presented as alpha. 
> 
> Confused, Ingrid tries to navigate her feelings. Sadly, she takes everyone else's burdens instead of her own.
> 
> Dorothea begins to help ease her pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a secondary character POV chapter! I'm excited to explore Ingrid. Sometimes the strongest, most level-headed people are the ones who need the most help. In game the Tragedy strongly affected the personalities of Dimitri and Felix, but what about Ingrid? Sure she mourned for a year, but grief never truly leaves us.
> 
> In this Omegaverse, (and at least in Fodlan) same pairings betweens alphas and omegas is forbidden. Most Crest-bearers present as either and it is the Goddess's wish for Crests to fill the land and so it is decreed by the Church of Seiros. Betas are the only free ones to choose a mate regardless of second sex, although it is generally frowned upon for a beta to pair with an alpha or omega and such pairings are typically seen only in commoners and the Crest-less nobility. 
> 
> If you're liking this please consider dropping a comment or kudo! I thrive off of feedback <3

#  **_Chapter 7_ **

##  **_—The Broken Heart Left Behind—_ **

**—Before—Various Moons—**

Much of Ingrid’s life had been spent preparing for one life only for it to be sent in a completely different direction. She was raised with the assumption she’d present omega. Her family had been so sure of it based off of the genetic lines and links to her family’s crest. She had been promise-mated to the heir of the Fraldarius Dukedom, Glenn, but her body had decided upon a different path for her. It was beyond confusing when she had presented. She loved Glenn, truly, and was mourning him deeply, but when her body suddenly craved something different she couldn’t simply stop her thoughts of longing to be with him. She’d been quickly told it was a shameful thing to think of another alpha and just like that she was supposed to drop it—a whole lifetime of expecting to spend your life someone, shattered twice; first when he had died,and second when she had presented as alpha.

Her father, Count Galatea, recommended she focus her efforts into becoming a strong and reliable alpha. Someone fit for a hearty omega to provide house Galatea with many offspring—a task she’d originally thought to have had. She told him she’d become a knight, something she’d always secretly wanted to be, like the ones she’d read of growing up and it had pleased him enough. However, Ingrid had chosen the path of Knighthood as a way to remain close to Glenn, because no matter how shameful it may be, she’d decided to live on in his stead. Becoming a knight would be seen as the honorable path, both for her and her family and would decidedly assist her in covering any traces of the secret she holds close: her continued desires of being with Glenn romantically. Or rather, being with another alpha sexually. _Very,_ sexually. She couldn't help herself. It was a secret she held closer than anything. Something she didn’t even share with Sylvain, her closest friend— _super_ especially not Sylvain the Gautier omega, a fact she was embarrassingly aware of now.

He had written to her while she was in mourning and found Sylvain on the page was far more eloquent and thoughtful than the in-person Sylvain. He shared his concerns about Felix to her and eventually even more. Feeling like Sylvain couldn't be the only one to hold their burdens she put herself together and set out to be a helper once more.

She was a stranger in her own body when around him, her instincts demanding something she flatly did not desire. She settled with protecting him at first, an easy way to channel her alpha instincts into made easier by Miklan’s sudden disinheritance.

But soon after Sylvain started sleeping around with various alphas and Ingrid found herself keeping the peace. It was a tiring and unthankful act she provided for him, one that had her filled with fraught. Making sure he wouldn’t stay out too late before his heats, ensuring he had taken his moon’s tea, fighting off possessive alphas, and even sneaking him back into the castle late at night. She was constantly worried about him, but said nothing as it served her a purpose of giving her alpha tendencies an outlet and keeping her own thoughts busy. It was selfish and entirely unknightly, something Glenn would disapprove of just as much as he would have probably disapproved of two alphas being together. She hated it. She felt guilty and disgusting. But didn’t stop. She couldn’t let go of Glenn just yet.

She'd been overjoyed when all three of her friends had been accepted to the Officer’s Academy. Not that she’d been surprised or anything, given their nobility status, but she had been just excited that her, Sylvain, and Felix could serve beside the future King of Faerghus. That was, until she arrived and saw how sour Felix had become since Glenn’s passing, and how little Sylvain actually cared about his grades. They were to become knights and she was doing more of the same peacekeeping between Sylvain’s promiscuity and Felix’s piss poor attitudes.

She had been in a particularly bad mood from convincing a very rude alpha Sylvain was ‘no really, very ill’ when she’d smelled it: the heavenly aroma of freshly-cooked beef, marinated for hours and salted to perfection. She had no clue the academy would be offering such amazing meats. She'd been up on her tip-toes, trying to see past the bulking blonde man in front her just to get a peak from back in line was when she’d felt a fateful tap on her shoulder.

“Hi, I don’t think we’ve met yet. I’m Dorothea Arnault, Black Eagle house,” said the tall brunette. Ingrid turned to the greeting and was instantly dumbfounded by her appearance. She had long flowing locks of hair, an adorable button nose, and sea-green eyes that seemed to sparkle. On top her head she adorned a hat that Ingrid had found downright cute. She bit her lip, feeling envious of her style. The woman leaned in to present a hand to shake, lifting her chin in such a way that allowed Ingrid to smell she was omega. Somehow, someway, she smelled more amazing than the meat she was in line for. Her mouth was agape.

“I’m sorry,” Dorothea smiled. “I must not have spoken up enough. My name is—“

“Dorothea! Right! Ingrid-” she blinked, _shit, had I been staring?_ “-of House Galatea. Blue Lions—I mean that is to say I am in—with the Blue Lion house.” S _mooth. Least she’s omega,_ she thought, still looking wide-eye at the newcomer. She wouldn’t have to go around apologizing on Sylvain’s behalf to her. Although the betraying part of her wish she would, just so she'd be able to talk with her more.

In hindsight, she’d been a complete, moronic idiot.

* * *

**—Academy Phase—Mutiny in the Mist—Garland Moon—**

“Claude! So good to see you!” Dorothea sung out to him. It was the first time they’ve ever met.

“Dorothea! My old pal! Please, sit, join me!” he responded, not skipping a beat and motioned for her to sit with him in the gazebo.

“So how is my oldest friend doing? Been chatting with anyone I know?” He said, tapping his nose gently.

“Oh, well, in fact I’d had heard the most hilarious joke from Sylvain the other day,” she took a biscuit, remaining casual despite the double-talk occurring.

“Sylvain? that so…” he pondered for a moment. “Man, a joke from him can really spread like wildfire, no matter how rude-I mean crude-they may be.” _Ah, there it was. Seems Sylvain wasn’t supposed to be loud-mouthing this little laundry scheme after all._

 _“_ Jokes aside, you look like a songstress in need of a song, and I happen to know a little songbird who can provide,” he said, stunning her. _How could he have possibly known I was a songstress? Surely my fame didn’t reach the far ends of the Alliance. How much else does he know…_

She laughed to cover any discomfort, “Oh you know me so well…”

“Anything for a _friend,”_ he said, tone indicating something more. _So there’d be a price, huh?_ She thought for a moment, taking a sip of tea. _I guess it’s worth it,_ she decided.

“Well, there is this one song I have a particular soft spot for,” she started.

“Wait, wait let me guess,” He said, putting on a theatrical thinking face. “It’s the one about the lone sell-sword, who’s heart is full of ice, longing to be melted by a beautiful omega,” he finished.

 _Ugh, don’t remind me,_ she thought, stopping her eyes from rolling. Her attempt at flirting with Felix had been her biggest blunder yet. Never had she met an alpha so disinterested in her. The whole show of it had left her wholly embarrassed and self conscious for days. She laughed, “Yes, I’ve heard of that one, although it’s not the song I’m thinking of.”

“Oh?” Claude said. She swore he almost flashed a look of disappointment.

“No it’s the one of the female knight who stood loyal to her King until the bitter end,” she said, blushing slightly, taking a sip of tea to hide it. Ingrid had utterly swept her off her feet with that darling look of bewilderment she'd had when she had introduced herself. She might actually have a shot with this one.

“That so?” He paused to take a drink. “Well I think I can be sending a little songbird to your room sometime to be reminding you of the beautiful lyrics.”

“That would be lovely.” She finished her drink and placed it on it’s saucer.

“You know as long as we’ve been friends,” he warned. “I’ve never heard you sing. I’m sure its a sight to behold.” Dorothea looked at him, slowly realizing just how dangerous and smart Claude truly was. He gave her this nervous buzzing energy, almost as if he were an alpha. She'd loathe to be contesting against him for the same alpha.

“I’d be more than welcome to sing for you sometime. All you have to do is ask!” She laughed nervously.

“I’ll be sure to do that, was good catching up with you Dorothea,” he said, standing up.

“You too,” she said warmly and as soon as he turned, she dropped the act. _Oh I hope this doesn’t bite me in the ass,_ but couldn’t help but be excited at having an item with Ingrid’s lovely scent on it.

* * *

**—Academy Phase—The Goddess’ Rite of Rebirth—Blue Sea Moon—**

Dorothea had kissed her at the entirely wrong moment. In fairness Ingrid _had_ been giving her signals, but that was just her hormones, it wasn’t necessarily what she had wanted.

Dorothea had trapped her in her room to put make-up on her. Make-up! There she was sitting on Dorothea’s bed looking like a clown when the omega had decided that was the moment to kiss her.

She’d been very adamant about not wanting to be ‘dolled-up,’ but…okay, maybe Ingrid had flirted back with her a tad, and she did find herself touching her more than anyone would during a normal conversation. But it didn’t mean she wanted it! Or expected it. Dorothea was just, nice to be around, she guessed. She wasn’t Sylvain who needed to be babysat, or on the verge of throwing tantrums like Felix, or her liege, who she needed to stay formal with. She was just Dorothea. And that was nice.

But now she had made it confusing.

“I’m sorry,” she said to Dorothea after she had pushed her away, “It’s just—I-” the words were getting stuck in her throat, _I’m still in love with Glenn? Who’s dead? And an alpha?_ His death anniversary had been the past moon. Nobody had mentioned it. Not even Felix. She'd cried alone in her room. “—I-” she tried to speak again, but her eyes swelled.

“No, no, I’m sorry Ingrid, dear. I completely misread you. Please, you don’t have to—“ She gasped, “Oh Ingrid!” She exclaimed seeing the tears burst out. Ingrid tried to hide the tears back with her hands, but ever the comforter, Dorothea opened her arms and swallowed her into a deep hug, Ingrid sobbing into her shoulder.

“Please Ingrid, it’s okay. I’ve had my fair share of rejections. We can be just friends, I get it,” she said, shushing her gently.

Ingrid choked back enough tears to finally speak, “No, that’s not it, I—“

“You what? Was it the make-up? I promise I won’t force you to do that again,” she said quickly.

“No, it’s—“

“I was being too forward wasn’t I? I knew I shouldn’t have scent marked those items,” she scolded herself.

“I—wait, what?” The absurdity of her statement threw her off.

“I—oh, that wasn’t it was it,” she looked guilty. Ingrid took a deep inhale in and understood now. The whole room had smelled intoxicatingly like Dorothea. She had just assumed most omega’s rooms were like this. _I guess she had done that on purpose. For me._

_Huh._

“Well, what is it, please, tell me,” Dorothea pleaded.

“Arg! I’ve been trying to!” She shouted in frustration. She held the bridge of her nose. This was Dorothea she’s talking to, not Sylvain. She shouldn’t act this frustrated with her.

“I—“ she took a deep breath, _I’m really doing this,_ and swallowed “—was once promise-mated to-” she looked away from her, “-an alpha.”

“I, don’t think I follow.”

“You see I hadn’t presented at the time, but based off my families genealogy it had been pretty clear I’d present as omega and so our families had arranged it regardless. And then this—” she motioned her hand over her body, ”—happened,” she finished, looking up at the ceiling to avoid crying again.

Dorothea sighed sadly, “I see.”

“And-” tears too heavy to hold back now, “-then he died,” she said, choking on the word ‘died.’

“And you still love him,” Dorothea said sorrowfully. Ingrid looked at her with pure fear and guilt, shocked she so easily figured out her secret.“It’s okay,” she said sweetly.

“No it’s not!” Ingrid shouted back, eyes wide.

Dorothea let out a held sigh. “Really, it is. I’ve seen all sorts of couples. Alphas and alphas, omegas and omegas, the world’s a big place, it happens!”

“But—it’s not allowed,” was all Ingrid could say.

Dorothea rolled her eyes. “Sure, it’s not allowed, but that doesn’t stop people’s hearts from loving,” she finished, reaching to tuck a portion her hair behind Ingrid's ear. Ingrid smiled softly as she did so, sniffling her tears back. She had no idea there were others out there who were experiencing what she was.

“Oh, darling, come here, there, there,” Dorothea sung lightly, and reached out for her, pulled her down into the bed, cradling her in her body.

“I do like you Dorothea, it’s just—“

“Shh, I know. In your own time, darling.” She kissed the top of her head while Ingrid mourned a lost love that never was or could be, heavy on the doorstep of something new.

* * *

There were heavy thuds at Ingrid's door. “Ingrid, darling, open up!”

She furled her eyebrows, her and Dorothea had agreed not to be in each others rooms for the time being so she could sort out her feelings.

“What is it?” She called through the door.

“Just open up, I have the _most_ exciting news to share!”

She shook her head. She had come to learn that when Dorothea said ‘news’ what she really meant was gossip. And while sometimes that was thrilling, she wasn’t in the mood. Her Pegasus Knight exam was coming up and she needed to study. “I’m studying—later!” She responded.

“It’s about Fe-lix,” she sung quietly through the cracks in the door. She set down her quill. Sylvain causing gossip was one thing, but Felix? There were only a few options for Felix-worthy news. Either Sylvain had roped him into some ridiculous plan that went afoul (unlikely as Felix had taken to avoiding Sylvain mostly while at the academy. Something she intended to ask him about if he’d ever pay her any attention), he’d injured someone (fairly likely), he’d actually killed someone (super unlikely with the Professor around), or he’d run away to become a mercenary (likely). Regardless Ingrid knew she’d have to pick up the mess and better to get a head start on that before anything got worse. She sighed, fate sealed.

She unlocked and opened the door where Dorothea stood looking absolutely giddy with excitement. Ingrid checked the hallway, _Dammit, there’s people around, best not to let this spread,_ and broke their rule by inviting her inside.

Dorothea couldn’t keep it in any longer. “Felix and Petra are a thing,” she smiled devilishly.

“Um, excuse me, Felix and Petra are a what?”

“Together,” she said sassily. “Like, together together,” she finished wiggling her eyebrows. Ingrid’s stomach dropped, “Are you sure? That doesn’t sound like Felix. Isn’t Petra a—”

“I know. And that’s why I had to confirmed it for myself. But I saw them together coming from the woods this morning, he’s _absolutely_ smitten with her,” she said, pausing to gauge Ingrid’s response. It wasn’t at all what she had hoped for.

This wasn't at all the type of 'news' she'd expected. Already her heart was breaking for him.

“I-I’m sorry, I thought you’d want to know,” Dorothea said confused. Ingrid just sat there. _Oh, poor Sylvain,_ she thought, feeling deeply for him. W _hen he finds out—Oh poor, poor Sylvain._

“Please don’t tell anyone else. It’s important,” Ingrid begged her. Dorothea opened her jaw, face full of disbelief the news she had brought had resulted in this mood.

“Of course,” she said blankly.

**—Academy Phase—Tower of Black Winds—Verdant Rain Moon—**

Ingrid was sharing a meal with Dorothea in the dining hall before their evening lesson. She’d been stress eating and had cleared her plate already, even with venting to Dorothea about the next mission the whole time. She hungrily eyed the unfinished slice of pork on Dorothea’s plate and before she could even ask, the lovely brunette wordlessly took the piece and passed it onto her plate. Ingrid beamed at her. The omega placed a comforting arm on her and spoke while Ingrid cut into her second servings, “I could try talking to him, you know, omega to omega, he might open up.” Ingrid quickly finished the bite, shaking her head while doing so.

“I appreciate that, but if he insists he’s okay there’s not much you can do.”

“I just hate this has you all worked up as well,” she said, tucking Ingrid’s flyaways behind her ear, softly smiling at the touch.

“He’s never been great at speaking his true feelings and has only rarely done so with me. I simply can’t believe he’d be okay with us going after Miklan, even after everything.”

“Hey, here’s an idea—“ her attention was pulled as she looked up past her. Ingrid turned to see what she was looking at and saw Felix brooding over her, fear in his eyes.

“He know about this!?” He practically shouted at her. It was the first time she'd seen him days. _He must just be finding out. Of course he’d go to his aid as well. We all have._

“Yeah,” she said softly, trying to get him to lower his own tone.

Barely audible he said, “Should have killed him when I had the chance.” _Did he say kill? Oh, no. What mess has he made?_

“Felix! what did you do?” She said slightly panicked, turning to speak, but he'd already made to move away.

“Nevermind,” he said not looking at her, charging a warpath to find him.

Ingrid went to stand up and follow him--nothing good was going to come from this--but Dorothea placed a firm hand on her shoulder and pushed her down.

“It’s not worth it, darling,” she said, tired.

“He’s going to go find him and say something to blow this all out of the water—I have to try to stop—“

Dorothea cut her off, poking her in the shoulder, “No, _you_ have to stop. You can’t handle everyone’s trauma on top of your own. Let the Professor handle this.”

“The Professor?” She repeated slowly, realization dawning on her. _Yeah, the Professor could handle this. She had a special way of digging deep without feeling like she was invading your privacy. It's uncanny, and just the thing Sylvain needs._

“‘Sides,” Dorothea continued, “That man looks like he’s in some sort of alpha funk. You’d only make the matter worse.”

Ingrid sighed, finally relaxing into her seat, “You’re right.”

“Mhm! Now finish up you meal and we’ll find the Professor.”

* * *

Ingrid was unsure if it’d actually work, but Dorothea’s insight was far better than her own. She spotted the Professor in the marketplace and waited for her to walk back into the Entrance Hall. Shifting nervously in her feet, she observed her making small talk with the Gatekeeper before she finally made her way in.

“Ingrid,” she said calmly, “You look troubled.”

“Professor,” she took a deep breath, Dorothea had helped her with the wording, she just needed to say it. “Please leave Sylvain alone for the time being. The thing is, the bandits' leader who stole the Relic...is Sylvain's disinherited older brother.” It was a manipulation to be sure, which didn’t sit well with her, but technically it was all true.

The Professor looked back at her, lips thin, and gave a curt nod before moving on.

***

 _Well that won’t do,_ Byleth thought. _Obviously I must talk to him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -I cannot possibly be the only who immediately after talking to Ingrid that moon went straight to find Sylvain. Right? Damn reverse psychology.  
> -Also, I may have watched the Godfather shortly before writing Claude's section. He is now the omega Godfather of Garreg Mach.  
> -The next four chapters are interlocked through different POVs leading up to a confrontation between Felix and Sylvain, taking place on the same day. I'm excited for you all the read it!
> 
> If you're looking for something a little more spicy and less angst, check out my other sylvix fic, For your Smile.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Feedback and thoughts are immensely appreciated!
> 
>  **Next Time**  
>  The Ghost  
> When Felix was finally brave enough to ask his brother about why their father had gone away, Glenn had spoken with such sadness and pain it nearly made himself cry. He had said ‘it’s because we looked too much like Mother and that made Dad sad.’ In hindsight Felix believed it was to not show any weakness to his impressionable sons. Not that it mattered anymore. He knew the truth and extent of his father’s ego now.
> 
> Updates on Tuesdays


	8. The Ghost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dead are dead and that is that. Or so Felix believes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More notes on this omegaverse:  
> Parental nouns are based off who sires/carries the child. Spousal nouns based off gender expression. Aka Rodrigue married a male omega cause I wanted him to.

#  **_Chapter 8_ **

##  **_—The Ghost—_ **

**—Academy Phase—The Tower of Black Winds—Verdant Rain Moon—**

There _was_ a time when Felix once loved and adored his father. There was even a short time where he could say with confidence he loved his father more than Glenn. It had been in the years before their mother had passed along with the thousands of others in the sweeping plague that had wrecked the Kingdom. He had very little memories of him; vignettes of him in bed, his father by him day and night, Glenn with tears in his eyes, and late night prayers to the Goddess.

What he does remember clearly was the process through which his father had grieved.

He'd refused to eat while making sure both his sons were full. He'd roamed the hallways at night, a waking corpse. There’d even been a night when Felix had woken from a terrible nightmare and went to find him only to see him collapsed beneath their wedding portrait, reaching for his mother’s hand. Rodrigue had seen him and taken him into his arms, holding him tight, weeping openly, with wet tears falling onto Felix’s head. He’d been confused at his father's behavior, the depth of the loss lost upon his young age.

Soon after that his father had begun sequestering himself away from his sons, choosing to mourn in solitude. When Felix had finally brave enough to ask his brother why their father had gone away, Glenn had spoken with such sadness and pain it nearly made himself cry. He had said ‘ _it’s because we looked too much like Mother and that makes Dad sad._ ’

In hindsight Felix believed it was to not show any weakness to his impressionable sons. Not that it mattered anymore. He knew the truth and extent of his father’s ego now.

It'd been during these months of mourning that Glenn had stepped in to raise Felix, teaching him the basics of fighting, how to address royalty, riding and other things young nobles be ought to know and do. Glenn was kind and gentle in his teachings to Felix and when he thinks back to the loss of his mother, he thinks back to Glenn being there for him when his father hadn’t.

He’d been in the same room as his father when the news of Glenn’s death had reached Fraldarius. He recalls the page reading the letter without tone, as if his brother’s murder at the hands of Duscur insurgents had been just another weather report. He had died protecting Dimitri, the only survivor of the whole ill-fated trip. Despite being what he considered to be his best friend, Felix angrily wished their positions to be reversed. He had known it was wrong of him to think such, but as the tears rolled down his face, knowledge he'd never see him again setting in, he just wanted to hug him tight once more; to duel him again, to ask advice, to chat with—Flames he’d even take a virtuous scolding from him now. He’d never get to prove to him he’d grown stronger. He’d never get to prove it to himself either. How could he know if he’d be a worthy alpha now without Glenn guiding his path?

He had expected his father to mourn with him. For them to lock themselves away—to be held in his arms again, weeping out loud, this time with the full understanding and gravity of it all.

He had tearfully turned to his father who then opened his mouth to say, “Be proud son, Glenn died like a true knight.”

What utter bullshit. Instead of comforting him, instead of weeping for the loss of his first-born son— _his_ brother, he had chosen to praise his death. As if it were the only thing he'd been good for—dying in the place of another.

And he hated him for saying that. He hated him and he hated the Boar and he hated the whole Goddessdamn society for making them all think he died heroically.

At least…that’s what he projected outwardly. While he cannot do but loathe anything related to chivalry; his father, while not Glenn, was still his family. Even after Glenn’s death he'd still put forth the effort into being there for Felix despite of his outward hatred; sending him to tourney after tourney, providing sparring tutors, helping him manage his violent ruts, and even had attempted to find him a mate—one that was not Sylvain. Felix had given him a scalding sputtering of words to never do so again—he still had time to prove himself—and to the Duke’s credit he'd listened, giving his son the spaced he needed. But even if he could recognize his father’s efforts he couldn’t manage to qualm the anger seeping inside his veins for his brother’s death. He hated his father, but knew he didn’t deserve his full wrath.

Part of his effort was shown by sending his father letters providing small updates of his time at the academy. He did so in secret, not wanting anyone to think for a second he associated with his father or approved of his actions.

And so it was as his rut ended he found himself wishing to write to the Duke again. Thanks to Petra’s assistance, it had been a far more mild rut than he’d ever experienced before. There were hardly any bruises on himself and he could actually remember some of what had happened, a fact that left him feeling confused and uncertain. He had figured most of his time’s were of him frantically charging about the room in search of his one desired prize, destroying anything in his path. But instead he distinctly remembered the braided hair of the beta princess along with her beaming smile. He had images of walking down the hallway with the honey-scented omega—Annette. He’d barely remembered her name while swearing at himself for haven’t gone into the room with her—giving her what she had clearly desired. And of course, there was as expected, Sylvain. Just thinking about it all made his dick ache.

 _Goddess, is it always supposed to be like this?_ He was too embarrassed to ask any of his friends and sure as shit wasn’t going to mention it to his father. What he really wanted to do was tell his brother. The thought tugged at his soul, but quickly and with practice he squashed the feeling with anger. _The dead don’t speak,_ he reminded himself.

After cleaning up, he moved to write his father. He’d be interested to know his ruts were beginning to subdue for prosperity-sake. The old man had tried a myriad of methods but eventually resigned to build him a sort of safe-house for his times. He felt he could harp on the old man for yet another failure were he had found success. _And her name is Petra._ An ironic chuckle left his mouth, _how quaint would it be to see the old man’s face if I were to tell him I was running off to Brigid._ His neck heated at the thought, guilt rolling in his stomach. It would not satisfy him though. His heart and body still longed for Sylvain. _If only there was a witch to rid me of this need._

He removed his family ring displaying the Fraldarius crest, and took out the sealing wax to bind his letter closed. He made his way to the sending tower with plans to corner the Professor for a sparring match as soon as he could find her. The way she wielded that ancient relic in the tomb was a sight to behold and Felix was itching to have a go against that. If he could beat her with that weapon… _It just may be enough._

He hoped to find her in the dining hall; he was starving and needed to get some calories in him if he planned to fight, but only found Ingrid and a few others.

He groaned, seeing Ashe waving him over. He had wanted him to read some stupid book on knights or whatever and he’d taken it just so he’d finally shut up and leave him be. It was still sitting at the bottom of his desk drawer.

He didn’t know why Ashe bothered with him. He thought he’d made it clear to him he wasn’t interested in being friends with people like him. People whose goal in life was to die on behalf of such falsities like loyalty and justice. People like Glenn. _And the dead don’t speak,_ he reminded himself again, finding his feet walking themselves to where Ashe had waved him down.

“You’ve must have heard by now, right?” The bright-eyed, speckled-faced archer asked him.

“Heard what?” He was already annoyed with him—too cheery for his liking.

“About our next mission? The Professor has already sent out Church scouts to find him,” he said, looking at Felix confused. The oblivious beta must not have been privy to the reason for his absence.

“Find. Who?” He punctuated, patience gone. Ashe spoke like the books he loved, all frivolities and no substance. He hated having to force information out of people.

“Why Miklan of course. Sylvain’s brother. He stole their—“ Felix banged his fists on the table and stood up, making his way directly to Ingrid.

-

“He know about this!?” He didn’t bother to see if she was in the middle of something before speaking. She turned to him, a perturbed look in her eyes.

“Yeah,” she said dolefully, understanding immediately. The brevity of her response alarmed him more. Anger rose in his cheeks. _How could the Church think this a good idea?_ Guilt recked his core. He had promised to keep him safe.

“Should have killed him when I had the chance,” he muttered to himself.

“Felix!” She had heard him. “What did you do?” Her eyes wider now, not knowing what he spoke of.

“Nevermind,” he said, pushing past her. He hadn’t even touched his food, his tray still seated by Ashe, but he needed to go see him. He needed to…to… _I need to apologize,_ he finally admitted.

* * *

_It was late. The moon was casting an illuminating glow to the castle walls beneath it as Felix patrolled the perimeter of his home. Glenn had been dead for two months and while there had been a funeral, they were unable to return his body to rest in Fraldarius soil. He had used to patrol the walls around the castle and, when no one else had spoken up, Felix had decided to take up the mantle himself._

_It was the birds departing their nests that had caught his eye initially. It was summertime and he had thought it to be some sort of nocturnal predator, maybe even a bear. What he didn’t expect, was for it to be Miklan._

_There had been a declaration a week or so ago from the Margrave. His eldest son was to be disinherited in favor of his younger and be banished from the Gautier territory. They were all aware the Margrave greatly favored Sylvain, the only child to bare the Gautier crest. His own father had grumbled something about Margrave using this period time of mourning to his advantage as many changes were happening around the Kingdom. Shortly thereafter he’d received a personal letter from Sylvain:_

> _F—_
> 
> _I know you’re probably still hurting and I’m sorry I can’t be there for you—for any of you right now. Dad is—_

He’d scratched something out.

> _—Dad’s been angry with everything going on and I can’t leave. I’m so sorry. I hope you can forgive us. Glenn was everything a brother should be and I wish he was still with you. He didn’t deserve this._

Felix paused to wipe away tears forming.

> _I’m okay, but just in case you hear it from someone else I wanted to let you know this ahead of time: Dad kicked out Miklan because he took things too far. Again, I’m okay—_

He grew concerned. Sylvain _never_ meant he was okay when he’d say ‘I’m okay.’ He only used those words to stop others from worrying about him.

> _—Dad was able to get the best healers in from the capitol—_

Panic swelled in his gut. _He needed healers from_ _the capitol_ _!?_ _Oh, no. Did he almost die? Did he almost kill him?_ His head had swirled with fear. They all knew Miklan hated Sylvain’s guts, but he’d never heard of him actually physically _hurting_ Sylvain.

> _—and they say I should be good to go in about a week so there’s nothing to worry about alright? We’ll be out playing in the woods again in no time._

He doubted that. He’d been overhearing his father struggling to keep the other Lords in line and from the sounds of it Dimitri’s Uncle was of no help.

> _And please,_ _don’t blame my brother for any of this. It wasn’t his fault._
> 
> _-S.J.G_

_And so it was when he saw Miklan’s face peering out at him from the trees, he unsheathed his sword and charged._

_Even with the large age and size gap between the two, the fight was pitiful. Miklan was already injured, face freshly disfigured, and he lacked a decent weapon, welding only a rusted lance. Felix had made full use of his crest-given strength and knocked him down in three easy passes. He prepared for a fourth strike, a would-be killing blow when he stopped himself. He’d never killed anyone before this moment. And he’d just lost his brother. How could he do the same to Sylvain?_

_His hesitation had been enough for Miklan to scramble away into the night, Felix choosing not to give chase._

_If Felix believed in ghosts he would have sworn it was Glenn himself who had stilled his sword._

* * *

Felix finally found Sylvain in the Knight’s Hall. He was seated by himself in front of the massive fireplace hugging a knee held close to his chest, chin resting on top it, a pensiveness to him. He perked up once he realized he wasn’t alone.

“Hey man,” Sylvain said cheerfully. “Glad to see you survived. Didn’t destroy your bed trying to breed a pup into it did’ja?” He smiled and laughed, but the fire reflected into his eyes, igniting the golden-flecks in a way that only highlighted his pain.

“How are you,” Felix asked, completely ignoring the crude jest.

“I’m okay,” He said. “Really.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _cries_ he's not okay
> 
>  **Next Time:**  
>  The Holy Kingdom of Faerghus’ Grand Tourney  
> A duel Felix/Sylvain POV chapter with some Dimitri finally making an appearance!  
> The prince leaned in over his shoulder, his own alpha presence making itself known, and whispered, “I know what you desire, I’d be a liar if I didn’t see why.” Felix ground his teeth to stay calm. He placed his whet stone back in its satchel, and stood to sheath his sword, turning to Dimitri in the process.  
> “And who would that be?” He said, not wanting to reveal himself in case Dimitri was just bluffing. Dimitri strolled over to where his armor was positioned, giving it a studied look.  
> “A Gautier omega,” he said wistfully and so quietly Felix almost hadn’t heard.


	9. The Holy Kingdom of Faerghus’ Grand Tourney

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions run high during the yearly Grand Tourney as the Western Lords murmur of rebelling against the crown. For Felix and Sylvain, however, their woes come more personal and unknowingly intertwined.
> 
> Felix sees Dimitri for who he truly is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes on this Omegaverse:  
> Guess it's about time I talk anatomy. Male omegas more or less keep their external parts in place, but have a great deal of internal shifting, which can be quite painful during presentation. Female alphas are intersex, growing a penis at presentation, but retaining vulva ect., and cannot become pregnant. Female omegas are known for being more fertile, producing multiple children in a single pregnancy (and therefore being slightly more desirable by noble standards), but the virility between male and female alphas is negligible.
> 
> Those with Crests are considered almost guaranteed to present as something upon puberty, but beta's with Crests have occurred throughout time. A person is considered beta if no presentation has occurred by their 16th birthday.

#  **_Chapter 9_ **

##  **_—The Holy Kingdom of Faerghus’ Grand Tourney—_ **

**—1178—Great Tree Moon—**

Tensions were high in the Kingdom as preparations for the Grand Tourney took place. The winter had lingered long into the spring, however the Great Tree moon brought with it the warm rains, washing away the dirty snow, leaving behind the dusty smell of mud in the air.

There was much dissent with the Western Lords, and the tourney itself had exacerbated tensions by pinning the crest-less children of lower houses against the likes of Felix, Sylvain, Dimitri, and more recently, Ingrid. Each of them had fought in their local territory’s tourney earning them a ranking for the Grand Tourney. Felix had done well for himself, although not as well as Glenn had once done at the same age of fifteen, having earned his position with the Royal Guard.

Felix desired two things from this competition. One, attain a position so that he could keep battling and two, defeat first rank Dimitri to prove his worth as alpha. He was second in the line up and while he did not wish for a knighting, his father informed him he may be able to win himself a position as squire which would be tolerable enough.

He sat alone inside his tent, sharpening his blade, determined to finally have a claim upon Sylvain’s neck, when Dimitri entered.

“Go away, I’m focusing,” he muttered.

“Now that’s no way to great a friend,” the prince said with a chuckle. He had grown accustom to his moods by now.

“You’re not my friend. You’re my opponent,” he said without taking his gaze from his work.

“If that’s how it’s going to be,” Dimitri led, a flash in his eyes, and crossing his arms casually—a tick that Felix would later learn to recognize as the Boar’s thirst for rage. “Why not make it more interesting? A wager perhaps?” He finished, resting a thoughtful looking finger on his jaw.

This gave Felix pause, stopping the repetitive movement of the whetstone against steel. _This might be a way to ensure him to back down._ The prince leaned in over his shoulder, his own alpha presence making itself known, and whispered, “I know what you desire, and I’d be a liar if I didn’t see why.” Felix ground his teeth to stay calm. He placed his whet stone back in its satchel, and stood to sheath his sword, turning to Dimitri in the process.

“And who would that be?” He said, not wanting to reveal himself in case of a bluff. Dimitri strolled over to where his armor was positioned, giving it a studied look.

“A Gautier omega,” he said wistfully and so quietly Felix almost hadn’t heard. He seemed too lost in the reflection of the Fraldarius crafted armor to have spoken up. Dimitri cleared his throat and turned, suddenly looking more relaxed, like the Dimitri he had known before the Tragedy. “My father had informed me Margrave had initiated a proposal of sorts some time before his death. Nothing’s been formalized of course, but I am aware of the connection between you two and thought it proper to discuss it-” he paused, glint in his eye returning, “-unless you think the tourney proper enough?” Years of playing and sparring had caused the prince to know exactly how to incite him and he hated it. He thought carefully, _getting Dimitri to back down was one thing, but the Margrave accepting him would be another. Defeating him in the tournament could be enough._

“If I win, you refuse the Margrave,” he said, offering a hand.

“If I win, I’ll accept it,” he countered, giving Felix hesitation, but his determination beat out. Much was at stake, but he knew he might still have a shot if he failed adding, “assuming Sylvain would even want you."

The prince chuckled darkly, “Of course.”

* * *

He found Sylvain snoozing beneath a willow tree a quarter mile from the main tent. _Lazy buffoon,_ he thought though couldn’t help admiring his body. He’d changed much since last they met, looked stronger and maybe even broader in the shoulders. Before he could kick him awake, a gentle “hey Fe,” had left his mouth, eyes still closed. He wanted to chastise him, the event was starting soon, and there he was, off and away napping, but the use of a nickname managed to seep through his thick layers right to his heart. There had only been one other time he had called him ‘Fe,’ and it had involved Sylvain nearly being gored by boars.

Instead of kicking his friend, he sat down next to him, concerned. “Your dad?” He asked the sullen omega.

“How’d you know?” Sylvain replied, closing his eyes tighter.

“Your letters implied as much. Not to mention you’re here, and not at the tourney.”

They had kept in close correspondence over the past two years when they couldn’t see each other. He had mentioned something about his father needing him to make a good presentation of himself at the tourney.

“I’m going to throw my match, whole thing’s stupid anyways. ‘Rather be at the border,” Sylvain said, still not opening his eyes.

“Ingrid won’t like that,” Felix responded. Sylvain and Ingrid were ranks five and six respectively. He knew how hard she’d been working, and would be seeking validation from the tournament. Sylvain throwing their match wouldn’t do her well. “Besides you’ve said the border is boring.”

“Do I look like I care!?” He shouted, finally opening his bloodshot eyes to look at Felix. With the sun hitting his face, he could see just how much of a mess he looked.

“What’s wrong?” Not realizing he’d struck a nerve with his friend.

“Tch. ‘what’s wrong.’ jeeze,” he rolled his eyes. “You wouldn’t get it.”

“Try me.” Felix knew the Margrave could be an asshole about certain things, but Sylvain normally brushed him off. Whatever this was, it was affecting him in a way Felix has never seen before— _except for maybe when he'd first presented as omega. If Ingrid could help him then, I could help him now._

He watched him blink tears down and take a heavy sigh. He turned to face him and started to say something, but instead stopped, having met his gaze. Felix was suddenly and acutely aware of how close he'd sat down next to him. Sylvain’s eyes were a sight he constantly craved, ever since they made that childish promise; golden flecks swirling around his irises pulling him closer. It felt like falling, and he was willing to fall as far as he needed to, their heads moving closer; so close he could almost scent him through the heavy armor and padding. Hints of snowfall in spring delighted his nose, heart pounding in his chest. He quickly looked down at his lips, plush and full and probably so very soft. _Maybe we don’t need anyone’s permission,_ a fleeting thought passed his mind. Sylvain tilted his head, and his own body reciprocated without thought, _I could kiss you right now and we’d run away before they’d find us._ He began to reach a hand to touch omega’s cheek, their bodies closing the distance between their lips to a near hair’s width, Sylvain's warm breath tickling the crest of his mouth. His licked his lips, eyes fluttering to the Sylvain’s. A hot pressure thumped in the base of his skull crying, _I want you, I need you, forever and ever I promise, I’ll protect you, I won’t leave you, I love you…_

A trumpet resonated in the distance, signaling the first match had begun. Sylvain jerked back, Felix’s hand stopping short of connecting, and they both turned to the noise off in the distance. Sylvain laughed, “S-see? I-It’s just stupid hormonal stuff, you don’t gotta worry.” He smiled, but it didn’t feel right to Felix, and before he could scrutinize his face more, Sylvain stood up to mount his horse. Felix turned to hide his face, willing an erection away. _You damn fool. He’ll won’t be yours until you prove yourself._

“Com’on let’s head back, I got a match to win,” Sylvain said with a chipper note in his voice.

 _As do I,_ Felix thought, determined, _but just in case_ , “Let’s meet back here after the tourney. When we’ll have time for you to tell me what’s really wrong,” Felix said.

Sylvain looked back from his mounted seat. With a crooked smile and a blush to his cheeks said “Sure." Adding a wink, “it’s a date.”

Felix rolled his eyes, pretending his heart hadn’t skipped a beat.

* * *

“Dammit,” he snarled. Dimitri was too quick for him to get any decent openings. Both had advanced with ease to the final match, going head to head after a long day of fights. Felix was struggling to keep his footing, Glenn’s words chastising him as he fought, _elbows in, stance wide, chin up._

Dimitri’s fighting style had changed, it was more wild—fueled by fury and instinct where Felix analyzed and anticipated, and found it impossible to predict his opponent moving without inhibitions.

He tugged at his breastplate, shifting it back into place, hating the way it slowed him down, and went to charge once again. _I need him, I want him, forever and ever—CLASH—you beast!_ The finely crafted Fraldarius armor may have suited Glenn for a time, but Glenn never had to fight for the right of mate.

Dimitri, or rather whatever beast that had replaced him, kicked his arm aside, wielding his lance like a furious twirling storm. A storm that was about to rain lightning onto Felix.

 _Wham._ A hit to his chest, knocked him off balance. _Wham._ A hit to his shoulder, dropping his shield. _Wham._ A knock to his head, slamming him into the mud. He looked up only to meet the gaze of a lance tip. The crowd cheers, his loss cemented.

The pin-needle eyes of the beast Dimitri bore into to him, Felix a stunned form of prey, until he blinked rapidly and looked up to smile at the crowd. Chants of Prince Dimitri’s name began to thunder throughout the crowd, a fitting sound to the storm he’d just unleashed. He turned to Felix still laying in the mud and offered a hand. “I was joking about that wager, by the way,” he laughed.

Confused, Felix took it and was helped up. Dimitri lifted both their arms together in a sign of solidarity and no-harm-done, milking the crowd. He leaned over to speak, private words exchanged under the roar of the crowd, “Just wanted to make sure there’d be a good fight.” Felix glared at him, entirely suspicious of the Dimitri beside him. He had fought like he was a completely different person. An uncontrollable force, compared to the naive, yet strong prince he’d battled before the Tragedy.

Dimitri slapped him on the back. “All in good fun! Lighten up Felix,” he said and smiled. “Matehood is still a many years off.” He waved to the crowd once more before exiting, leaving Felix, stupefied.

Despite taking no serious wounds from the duel, Felix is certain he is dying.

* * *

Sylvain was enjoying the fresh air despite the sour event. He didn’t want to be here. Tourneys were just a Crest power jerk off fest and he hated to be reminded of his. It was just something to entertain the masses and subtly threaten the lesser Lords from rebelling. And if his father had is his way it’d also serve as the silver platter for his son to lay upon, a position from which the Lordly alphas may gaze at his ‘hearty’ omega ass.

The whole thing made him want to vomit. He tried running off, but Felix managed to catch him before he had committed to the idea. He’d settled for making as a mess of himself instead.

Of course he still threw his match with Ingrid, despite telling Felix otherwise, but gave _just_ enough effort to make her feel like she’d earned it. That way she wouldn’t be mad at him. He’d need her help tonight if everything went according to plan. With the match over he could now spend his time finding some lovely alphas to take out all the pent up pre-heat energy he had. He really wished it had come earlier so he wouldn’t have to deal with this bullshit, but such is his unlucky life. Sylvain’s heats always arrived scheduled, and on time no matter how hard he tried to will it otherwise.

Back in Gautier, he’d purposely left out his moon’s tea so he could be sent back to the border and skip the Grand Tourney, but had no such luck. Instead he’d spent the week prior locked in a cell, deep in the mountains under Gautier Manor. His father and various nuns had been by to lecture him on how to represent the family name, resisting his nature’s urges, to ‘show the Kingdom what hearty Gautier omega is capable of,’ blah blah blah. Felix was right in that his dad had upset him, but shit like that was typical. His father was always determined to shine Sylvain into his sparkling family gemstone, no matter how much he misbehaved. No, it was how he’d reacted when Sylvain had brought up Felix.

He was currently flirting up two saucy alphas from the Gaspard territory when the horn for the final match went off. He was letting them both snuggle up close to him, holding onto their waists and checking out their cleavage while they scented him. _I may be unlucky, but at least the view’s great._ There was one who smelled of chestnuts and cinnamon, and one who smelled like, _hrm, something berry-like,_ he thought and buried his nose into her shoulder to determine it better, her squealing with joy as he did so. If he could sustain himself on that noise alone he would, and moved to pleasure her more. _Cinnamon babe seems too into my Crest anyways,_ he reasoned, letting go of that ones waist to favor his attention, now sucking on the berry-alpha's neck. She made lovely noises. He licked her scent gland slowly, omega hormones purring positive responses into him and found himself yearning for the moans to come from Felix’s mouth instead.

He pictured Felix's amber eyes slowly closing as their faces had inched towards each other. He’d been falling amongst the burning autumn leaves that was the alpha's scent. They’d almost kissed back at the willow tree and he had wanted it so, so bad his body felt like it’d been tearing itself apart. Thankfully the trumpet sounding had shaken them out of it. His heart probably couldn’t have taken it if they had.

***

The Margrave was many things, a noble fighter, a fierce protector of his family and lands, and ashitty dad, but he was never a liar. He just had different values compared to his sons. He herald nobility and Crests, and knew how to talk an argument in circles until the Lords were overwhelmingly convinced. So when Sylvain’s dad talks to him about the way nobles behave—not how they’re _expected_ to behave—how they truly behave in the twisted nature of upper echelon of society, he believes him.

He had found the scented shirt Felix had sent him. ' _You said you had nothing, so use this if you please, -F'_ were the only words attached to the package. It had been a massively bold move, one that _deeply_ pleased him, and he had been enamored to be surrounded by the alpha’s scent. Margrave, however, had been not-so enamored.

 _‘You think that runt of an alpha_ _loves_ _you? The nobility isn’t granted such luxuries! It is merely the timely desire, son. You will both fulfill your_ _separate_ _duties,’_ were the words that sent tears down his face, and the words that continued to upset him.

Felix didn’t love him, didn’t want him, and probably barely wanted to be friends with him. It was just his stupid omega hormones enticing him. Nobody actually wants Sylvain Jose Gautier. They either want him for his Crest, or for his slick, or his looks, or his scent. He might as well not exist.

And if nobody wanted him, then he’d make sure nobody would want the Gautier omega either.

***

“Know anywhere more private?” The alpha whispered into his ear, her cock pressing into his thigh. Cheers erupted from outside. The match had been declared. He looked up; Felix had said he wanted to meet with him again after the tourney.

“So sorry, but I do have a private after-tournament event to go to,” he lied, detaching himself from the berry-scented alpha.

“Ah, there you are Sylvain.” All three of them looked to the entrance of his tent, seeing His Royal Highness, Prince Dimitri entering. “Ladies,” he acknowledged. They backed away, intimidated by the presence of a stronger alpha. And wow, was he exuding alpha pheromones into the air.

He sauntered forward, “Felix gave a valiant effort, but it appears I have won the tournament! Celebrations are in order!” He had a wild-look to his eyes. _Must be a winner’s high._

“Congratulations, we never doubted you for a second, my liege,”Sylvain said, giving a joking bow.

He moved close to Sylvain. “Sylvain, please,” he said, slipping an arm around his waist. The women departed the tent seeing the powerful alpha strike an intimate claim on him. “There’s no need for the formalities,” he said, speaking close to his skin, looking at him with lidded eyes. He stared at the Prince, confused by his actions, startled by the sudden interest. In the past, they had strictly been friends, with thick boundaries drawn.

“Ah, ‘course, Dimitri,” Sylvain said uncomfortably, trying to separate from him. The two tiny alphas had been a nice aroma to soak his pre-heat woes into, but Dimitri was downright intoxicating at this distance and he needed to be careful. _Damn heat, should probably take off soon._ He moved to get away from the alpha, but was cut off. “Hey man, if you’re looking for a sultry omega to have your way with I got some friends,” he said slightly panicked, trying to push him back. _There’s no way he actually wants this. He's just exciting from winning and my stupid heat is reeking up the place._

Dimitri moved in to close the space between their chests, a hand on his face, and kissed him passionately, preventing his escape. The shock should have pushed him back, but instead his omega instincts kicked in and submitted to the kiss under the immensely powerful alpha, melting and moaning into him. Dimitri pulled off after a moment to look a him, eyes wild and still riding the high. He smiled darkly.

The suddenness of the kiss had done a number to Sylvain's system. His stomach was now fluttering when it had been anxious mere seconds before and he could feel a wetness escaping his hole. He’d already been excited from the ladies, and now Dimitri’s scent was servicing him in ways that made him soft. He grabbed Dimitri’s face and pulled it back in, their lips connecting, and moaned needfully. Dimitri licked his tongue across his upper lip, parting them to dive deeper. For as aggressive as his initial move had been, Dimitri was a gentle kisser, moving slowly around his mouth, caressing their tongues together. The excitement had Sylvain’s body begging for more, slick now dripping down his thighs. He moaned into his mouth, trying to indicate he was ready to take things further when Dimitri quickly backed off laughing, taking multiple steps away from him, leaving him gasping pathetically.

**_Told you_** _,_ a dark voice similar to Miklan invaded into his head.

He whimpered, “What the hell Dimitri!? Why’d you—“ _B_ _ack off? Kiss me?_ He couldn’t decide. Both were equally confusing and frustrating.

Dimitri smiled with one corner of his mouth, eyes darkened inside the tent, making him look almost entirely unfamiliar to the omega. “Just trying to gauge your interest,” was all he said, and turned to leave.

“E-Excuse me!? And now you j-just leave? You can’t do that!” Sylvain heard himself speaking with a voice he was entirely unfamiliar with. The needy, whining omega in him begging the alpha not to abandon him, not after he’d gotten him so slick. _Goddess, I sound absurd, he’s your future King._

 _‘_ _It’s merely the timely desire,’_ his father’s words rang in his head.

He watched the alpha cross his arms and chuckle, “Well, I’m heading to the formal celebrations now…you could come with me?”

Sylvain battered his eyelashes, baffled. _Wait, he’s asking me to come with? And not just to fuck? Could he actually…_

“Yeah,” Sylvain said, spirits rising.

_What about Felix._

“That sounds like fun,” Sylvain said with a smile.

_You said you’d meet him._

He linked arms with the prince. 

_He’ll be waiting._

And he rested his head against his shoulder.

_You wanted to tell him._

But this felt so much easier. Dimitri was here and asking for him and Felix was not, and that was all the convincing he needed.

* * *

Felix had discarded the useless armor on his walk back to the large drooping branches of the willow tree. It hadn’t helped him and it certainly hadn’t helped Glenn. He sat there fuming, refusing to cry, replaying how he should have been able to defeat Dimitri, no, whatever creature that had replaced Dimitri. He had been so focused on his defeat it hadn’t quite dawned on him that Sylvain had not shown. _Dumbass probably forgot,_ he thought angrily, trying to smother his hurt. _He didn’t spectate, so maybe he lost track of time or something._ He marched back to the tourney grounds to find him, not bothering to take his armor back with him. _Damned be the Prince’s victory, I’ll kiss him this time._

Celebrations were already underway. Lanterns lit the area decoratively, and a band was playing lively music with many dancing in the area. He scanned the crowd, looking for the token red head when his heart dropped. There he was, dancing with Dimitri, hips grazing each other to the beat. He could see Sylvain pressing his face into his neck, laughing gleefully as they swung about in time.

If he had felt like he had died earlier, then surely this feeling was his soul departing his body. He could feel his bones collapsing from the emptiness, vision blurring from the unblinking tears pooled on his eyes. A high pitched ringing noise enveloped his mind and he stood frozen to the spot watching the couple dance. Rage sought to occupy, and he welcomed it.

His nostrils flared, _That bastard! The Liar!_ He barred his teeth, body trembling. A fury he’d only before experienced once before from seeing Sylvain’s whimpering injured body in the forest filled his gut. “THAT _BOAR!”,_ he raged, red hot tears staining his face.

Before he could do anything he’d later regret he grabbed his horse and rode all through the night back home, having not said a word to anyone.

* * *

**—1180—Academy Phase—Tower of Black Winds—Verdant Rain Moon—**

Felix knew better than to believe Sylvain when he’d say “I’m okay,” but he couldn’t shake the feeling it should be someone else’s job to help him. They were a strange essence of friends who had not spoken for almost two years mixed in with his own feelings of longing for more. It wasn’t his place.

And yet he had instinctually searched out for Sylvain after learning Miklan was their next mission, a one-track mind to ensure Sylvain wasn’t mentally drowning in himself.

“What’s wrong,” Felix asked, sitting down on the opposite end of the couch in the Knight’s Hall.

“Tch,” Sylvain exasperated.

“I know it's about Miklan.”

“That’s not it.”

“Then tell me.”

“You wouldn’t understand,” he said a little too harshly, finally speaking to him as himself. A welcomed warmth he hadn’t experienced in too long, despite the sullen topic.

“Try me,” he said. Sylvain didn’t respond. The fire cracked as a log broke sending cinders up and out of the fireplace, the silence between them growing.

_Fine. I’ll be the one to get to the point then._

“I need to apologize,” he confessed to the golden eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed! Dimitri will start to get more 'screentime' now, but won't have a POV chapter until later in the story. 
> 
> **Next Time:**  
>  By the Fire  
> Sylvain and Felix confront each other.  
>  _“To the Pride of Gautier, my son,_  
>  It is time you claim the mantle bestowed to you by our family’s Crest. That degenerate spawn of mine has managed to steal the Lance of Ruin from the manor. The Church will undoubtedly get word of this and try to handle it themselves. I trust you will intercede on our Bloodline’s behalf, and not let it fall into their hands. Do whatever it takes to ensure it’s safety. I pass this noble heritage on to you now.  
> -Margrave Gautier”


	10. By the Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Lance of Ruin, Sylvain muses, was aptly named. Not so much in that it brings ruin to those who wield it, although an argument could certainly be made, but more so that it's presence is an omen of ruin to come.
> 
> Sylvain confronts Felix.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw for past childhood abuse, implications of sexual in nature. Lots of Sylvain angst.

#  **_Chapter 10_ **

##  **_—By the Fire—_ **

**—Academy Phase—Tower of Black Winds—Verdant Rain Moon—**

Miklan had taken full advantage of every avenue of emotional pain he could inflict upon him when he’d presented as omega. His father had been visibly disappointed and clear-headed beta Miklan strategically moved to capitalize on it. He’d accompanied the Margrave to the capitol while he was wrecked with his first heat and returned with fresh set of insults his young, tender heart hadn't been ready for.

“Everyone’s shocked you’re an omega. Especially your so-called friends.”

“I heard them speaking how they don’t want to hang out with you anymore.”

“They know you smell disgusting and none of them would want you. I overheard them myself! They all agreed. Don’t believe me? Just ask Dad. You’re more unwanted than me now.”

He had gone to ask his Dad about the trip, wondering if he’d been promise-mated to another noble family. “Like maybe Felix?” He’d asked hopefully.

He’d liked how the younger Fraldarius followed him everywhere, idolizing him, laughing at his every joke. It was cute and made him feel warm and good in a way his twelve year old self didn’t fully understand yet.

His father had responded incredulously, “House Fraldarius!? Please, son, you are a Gautier. I will not be handing off _my_ Crest to any weaker lesser House alphas or runts, should the unlikely happen—A Gautier omega deserves better than that. It’ll serve you well to remember,” he finished with what was supposed to be a reassuring pat to his head. Instead he'd felt like he was being held underwater.

Tears in his eyes, he had ran back to Miklan who only laughed at him to say, “Told you.”

The first time he had been at the capitol after presenting, he could barely bring himself to face them at all. Tears had run down his face and Ingrid had taken him aside to reassure everything Miklan had said was false. Didn’t matter, the damage had been done and it was adamantly clear they were all treating him differently. “ ** _Told you,”_** had carved into his very essence.

_And now that piece of garbage is trying to worm his way into more trouble,_ he thought _,_ sitting in front of the large hearth sequestered in the back of the Knight’s Hall. He’d received a letter from the Margrave regarding the stolen family Relic at the beginning of the month.

> _To the Pride of Gautier, my son,_
> 
> _It is time you claim the mantle bestowed to you by our family’s Crest. That degenerate spawn of mine has managed to steal the Lance of Ruin from the manor. The Church will undoubtedly get word of this and try to handle it themselves. I trust you will intercede on our Bloodline’s behalf, and not let it fall into their hands. Do whatever it takes to ensure it’s safety. I pass this noble heritage on to you now._
> 
> _-Margrave Gautier_

He’d seen the Lance in action many times in his father’s hands. Fighting off Serngi insurgents at the border, and training with him at home. There was only one moment that dwelled in his mind though.

He'd nearly died. It'd been late, and he and Miklan were out on the balcony, peering at the stars. It was one of those rare moments when they felt none of the animosity between them. He could actually relax and let his guard down around his brother; a genuine space to share their joy of stargazing together, without their father breathing down their necks. Miklan had pointed out the first yearly sighting of the star Blushing Maiden, yet it was positioned just behind the mountains, out of his sight lines. Sylvain hooked his feet around the banister, boosting himself to the same height as his brother.

“You see it?” Miklan had said, close to his ear, pointing. The red-hued star hummed, just barely visible in the night sky. He nodded. “That’s going to be you someday. Blushing red on your mating night, getting fucked repeatedly by some alpha who loathes the smell of you,” he hissed, sending Sylvain on guard.

“H-hey shut up,” he had blushed crimson. He’d been young and still listened to every word the nuns preached and hadn’t yet resolved himself to sleep with any available alpha cutie. Hadn’t even crafted a proper nest yet, thanks to the unhelpful advice from the omega nuns his father employed.

“Dad says you’re going to put out oh-so nicely for the Prince,” Miklan continued. Sylvain wanted down, but Miklan held onto him over the banister, preventing his exit. “Not like His Royal Highness could even stand to look a disgusting smelling thing like you in the eye while he did it,” he said grinding his hips into back. He gritted his teeth. He’d just need to endure. Let his brother vent out his frustrations and then he could go to bed.

“We’ll have to see if you even make it to your mating night,” Miklan said ominously.“I doubt it,” were the last words Sylvain heard his brother spoke.

His next memory was the rush of wind around his face as he fell. He'd landed hard, with several things broken or at least in the wrong spot, and his arm had been somewhat impaled by a branch on the ground, but he luckily had landed in a large leaf pile that had softened the blow. Autumn had come early and it had saved him.

Pain forbid him from moving, and he’d gotten a perfect view of his father storming out onto the balcony, Lance of Ruin in hand, slicing upwards at his brother’s head, a stroke of crimson painting the air. His father peered at him over the edge, seeing if he was still alive, yelling his name and called for help. Bells usually reserved for a Serngi attack rang throughout the manor. Hey lay there motionless until they got a healer to him.

He’d felt okay though, in spite of all the pain. Or perhaps the pain had actually comforted him. Something to match the emotions inside. The smell of decaying leaves had surrounded him, reminding him of the time Felix had once rescued him before. Felix couldn’t possibly come to his rescue now, but if he just closed his eyes…

It took him over a month to fully recover, but it was during that time he and Felix had started writing each other. It was too awkward to write Dimitri, and Ingrid had only responded here and there. Felix though, wrote him nearly twice a week until he had stopped suddenly sometime after the Grand Tourney. Losing that lifeline had been more devastating than Sylvain was comfortable admitting.

He'd filled the void with endless border patrols and women.

* * *

Sylvain was long used to coping with the terrible childhood memories. He didn’t like that his father’s letter had reminded him of some of them, but he could handle the task given to him. His father was now entrusting him with the Lance of Ruin, a big step forward into his predetermined future. Which meant another was soon to follow--a thought that depressed him significantly. _I thought I’d have more time._

Ingrid had stopped by earlier to check on him. She was worried about him facing his brother again. No matter how much he’d reassure her he was fine, she wouldn’t quit. He finally had to hit on her like he was in heat just to get her to leave.

Dimitri stopped by next, although maybe it’d been by accident. He’d entered the Knight’s Hall, lance in hand to train when he spotted him by the fire. He’d chatted with him, promising to protect him against his brother, that’d he do the worst if it came to it, vowing to never let anyone lay hand against him, blah blah blah, and then left, lance still in hand. His presence had only made his mood worse. He father desired a Royal mate for his Gautier omega and, rest their souls, Dimitri was the only one left.

Not that he didn’t like Dimitri, he just—creeped him out at times. Sylvain couldn’t get a decent read on him since the Tragedy and his only romantic interaction with him had felt like whiplash. Forceful one moment, sweet and tender the next. It was jarring and almost had led him to doing something he didn’t want at the Grand Tourney. Dimitri had of course stopped and apologized before things had gotten out of hand, but it had still freaked him out. They haven't interacted much since.

And now so long as the Margrave gets his way, he was looking at facing a lifetime with him. The longer he thought about it, the more it just felt like a lifetime of more of the same bullshit he'd grown up with. He shrunk into the couch, holding himself close.

And then of course there was Felix. He had once thought he could convince the Margrave to pair them. Of course with his luck, Sylvain had picked the time his father had found his secret nest stash hiding Felix’s shirt to make his argument. The memory of it sent his heart further into the depths, and he swore he no longer had a pulse. His fathers words cut him, ‘ _You think that runt of an alpha_ ** _loves_** _you!?’_

Someone was in the room with him again. He quickly fixed himself, and turned to see, of all people, Felix. Even from here he could still smell the post-rut on him and he looked disheveled, like he was in some sort of fit or someone had taken his favorite sword or something.

“Hey man,” he said, forcing himself to sound cheerful. “Glad to see you survived. Didn’t destroy your bed trying to breed a pup into it did’ja?” _Okay, even I know that might have been too far._ He was aware Felix was self-conscious about his ruts being violent. _On the other hand, maybe he’ll just turn and leave me be._

“How are you,” Felix said instead.

“I’m okay,” he responded innately, and sunk back into himself preparing for another conversation about his brother, lacking the energy to keep up the pretense. “Really.”

Felix moved to sit by him on the couch, his scent enveloping the area. His natural smokiness enhanced by the fire.

“What’s wrong,” he asked.

“Tch,” Sylvain exasperated, trying to focus on the flames. He yearned to fall into him, to be comforted by his autumn leaves and grassy scent. _It’s not worth it,_ he thought though, _I can’t have him and he wouldn’t have me anyway._

“I know it's about Miklan.”

“That’s not it.”

“Then tell me.”

“You wouldn’t understand,” he said in a harsh tone that surprised even him.

“Try me,” Felix responded quickly. _I wish I could,_ he thought longingly, _but like I can just say that out loud. There’s so much I wanted to tell you, Fe. And I could have if you’d written back at all._ He tried to find words, a place he could begin at, but he’d been silent for too long.

Felix spoke up to fill the space, “I need to apologize.”

What about, he wasn’t sure, but he had hoped it was in regards to the past two years.

“I didn’t protect you,” was what he actually said. Sylvain stifled a groan.

The statement actively offended him, “I don’t need protecting. You, Ingrid, and Dimitri have it—“

Felix growled, “Don’t mention his name.”

Sylvain threw his hands up into the air, as if rolling his eyes wasn’t enough, “Okay, _fine_ , but it doesn’t change what I said. I’m okay. You all really need to stop worrying about me.” He tried giving his standard smile, but was uncertain if Felix would buy it. Of all his friends, it was him who’s seen the deepest parts of him.

“I should have done it, and I didn’t, why can’t you let me apologize,” he said.

 _What is he talking about. Should have done what?_ A spark ignited in his stomach _. Could it be about that time we almost kissed? At the Grand Tourney? Goddess, I should be the one apologizing. I ditched him and for what? The shittiest evening ever? Fucking Dimitri, should have gone back to him. Told him the truth._ He sat, silent, thoughts wrecked with both guilt and hope.

Felix had his full attention now, looking desperately into his razor sharp eyes. _If he regrets not doing it, then maybe he—_ he wanted to think ‘loves me,’ but even he knew that’d be too ridiculous. _Likes me? Wants me? Wants to at least bone down?_ _Cichol’s Ass I’ll take what I can get I guess._ The week had taken an emotional toll on him, and he was starting to wear thin with his desires.

He hadn’t responded so Felix took it as approval to keep speaking, “I had seen Miklan before, right after he’d been kicked out.”

Sylvain’s heart dropped harder than the Goddess herself falling from the stars. It wasn’t about the almost-kiss. _Goddess fucking Saints, Felix Fraldarius._

“I could have killed him,” he continued. “But I didn’t. And now you have to deal with this. I-I’m sorry,” he barely managed to choke out the apology. It was a big thing for Felix to do, but Sylvain couldn’t find himself to care enough. It wasn’t anything he need to apologize for.

Sylvain took both of his hands through his hair, scraping hard at his scalp to hide his frustration; inhaling deeply before opening up his elbows to lean back into the couch, head resting in his hands. Casual—least he hoped. “Look, I told you I’m not upset about my brother. He’s an ass and is going to get what he deserves,” he said, not as calm as he had hoped.

“Hrmph,” Felix said antagonistically, standing up to walk to the fire, back facing him.

“You don’t believe me?”

“‘Course not.”

Sylvain brought his fingers to rest on the bridge of his nose. First Ingrid was pestering him, having to embarrass her to get her to leave. Then Dimitri insisting he would protect him from his brother’s harm, as if he actually knew about the true damage he'd caused. And now Felix? Why couldn’t his friends actually listen to him for once. He couldn’t keep it bottled up anymore.

“And how the fuck would you know, Fe?” He quietly snapped at him, mask shattering. Felix’s head turned sharply, but stayed silent. It only encouraged his frustrations. Felix has been a shitty crush, and an even shittier friend to have and Sylvain was ready to let him have it. “You want to apologize? How ‘bout you apologize for how you stopped writing to me so suddenly? Or for dodging me any time I want to hang out? Nobody needs to train that often, Felix, nobody!”

His words looked to have angered him. “Tch, you wouldn’t understand.”

“Oh, now I’m the one who wouldn’t understand?” He was raising his voice now, “How ‘bout this Felix? You stop pretending like you actually care about me and we go on not understanding each other from opposite sides of the Monastery?” Felix looked mad, but it wasn’t enough. He remembered the scented towel he’d covertly given him. _Time to hit him where it hurts._ He walked forward and scented him aggressively, making sure he could hear his inhale. The blissful waves of autumn leaves enhanced by the smoky fire sent agonizing waves of pleasure through his body, abdomen cramping slightly.

“Besides,” Sylvain hissed into his ear. “You reek. And I have plenty of other alphas to play with,” he finished, sauntering back.

 _There it is._ Felix’s face had finally distorted from its usual anger. Twisting the words he’d slung at him many times, he was finally able to see hurt on his face. _Now you know,_ he thought, _Now you know how I’ve felt._

“Gentlemen!” The Professor called out, using the full authority of her voice. Both turned to see she had been standing there for an unknown amount of time. Sylvain worked intensely to find a calm demeanor again for the Professor. He didn’t want her or anyone else seeing his ugly self and turned to face the fireplace, keeping Felix in his periphery, seeing him attempt a scowl to hide the pain he’d just inflicted.

“Hey Professor, how’s it hanging?” He said, consciously pitching his tone upward.

She ignored him, walking up to Felix, a scroll in her hand. She tapped it against his arm, “Just got word Duke Fraldarius is on his way to visit the Monastery.” _Shit, she sounds mad._

“Just perfect,” Felix spat with a poisonous tone. “I’ll be in my room." He left, Sylvain tracking him until he disappeared.

“Sit with me,” The professor said. It wasn’t a request. He turned to see her seated on the couch, and joined her willingly. Everybody and their second cousin wanted to talk with him today, so he might as well surrender. _She probably wants to know about my brother._ The anger from Felix was still dispersing inside him. _Should just tell her quickly._

“I’m so sorry my older brother is causing you all this hassle, Professor,” he said. She made a face at his implication. He moved to quickly correct, “Don’t misunderstand, I always thought he was a piece of garbage, but I never thought he'd steal the Relic.” _Okay, now really drive it home,_ “I can't wait to see his face when he realizes I'm in the group that was sent to take him down.” G _olden. Now please leave me alone._ He wanted to brood over Felix.

“Hmm,” she said, tone unreadable. “And Felix is mad because you’ll be fighting your brother?” She sounded like she’d miss half their argument.

“Felix is always mad.” _There, let her assume what she wants._

“Yes, but he’s rarely hurt,” she said, those big all-knowing eyes staring at him. _Sheesh Professor, way to make me feel guilty._

“Yeah, okay, so I said some hurtful things. Like he hasn’t before,” he said, wishing to avoid this conversation, but equally hoping to not upset the Professor. “It’s kind of our thing. He says something shitty, I say or do something equally shitty, we don’t speak for a time and then it’s like it never happened. We’ll be fine,” he reassured her. She looked at him with her large eyes; he could practically feel her reading his thoughts.

“It’s okay,” she said slowly, placing her hand upon his, “to not be okay, you know.”

He was taken aback by her words. “I’m—“ ‘ _okay’_ was what he wanted to say, but her words made his lie all too glaring, even for himself. She waited patiently. What could he say, _I’ve been stupidly in love with someone who’d never love me back?_ _Yeah, right._ That it was far too revealing, even for the Professor.

“I’m just going through a lot in my head,” was what he settled on. “The whole Relic thing has stirred up a lot of memories for me.”

“Such as?”

He snorted, _Oh jeeze, where to start? I don’t want to say too much._ He resolved, and thicken his skin.

“Nowadays, with the bloodlines getting weaker, there are a lot of kids like my brother…born with no hope,” he began. “For ages now, those of us with Crests have been envied and desired, but never for who we are. I understand the value of my blood. Believe me, I hate how much I understand it. I know better than to dream of being free from this burden. I'm used to it by now. I used to think I didn't have the right to live freely.” _Just a show pony in a cage, like Miklan used to say._

“You don’t think that way anymore?” She asked, lifting any eyebrow.

He laughed, “That’s right. You know what?” He paused, unsure if he’d be giving himself away too much. _Ah Flames, it’s the Professor after all._ “I'm a bit jealous,” he added. “The whole time you were growing up, you never knew you had a Crest. You were free. Nobody pretended to like you. I kind of hate you for that…” he checked her face for a reaction, nothing.He was feeling himself get too seriously again. “You were a spoiled brat who should pay for that Crest. Maybe I'll collect the debt,” he teased and watched her face twisted into something defensive. He relaxed, knowing she wasn’t seeing through him. “Ha! Gotcha! Wow, you shoulda seen the look on your face just then.” Satisfied, he stood up from the couch to linger in front of the fireplace again, “Don't mind me, Professor. After all, alpha ladies love a dark and brooding noble omega.”

She stood and followed him, inquisitive look in her eyes. _Damn, she’s absolutely stunning in this light._ “And what about Felix? He’s an alpha,” she stated. _This again, Flames, she won’t drop it._

“He’s made it clear he’s not interested,” he tried to say flatly. “We used to write each other constantly, but suddenly one day he stopped and now it’s been almost two years. I’m surprised at how much he’s talked to me here,” he admitted. “Besides, if you haven’t noticed, I don’t typically go for the male alphas.”

“Because you have ‘plenty of other alphas to play with?’” She quoted him.

“Ouch. You hurt me with my own words, please I don’t need this torture,” he teased. She sat, unamused. Sweet Cethleann, _she’s downright pouting at me, it’s so sexy. She can’t do this to me—ah, Goddess, I can’t resist,_ “Hey don’t pout at me, unless you’re trying to make yourself hotter—‘cause it’s working.”

No reaction.

_Fuck, that should’ve put her off guard, changed the subject at least._

He relented, “Ok fine, I do, er, did like Felix, but it never mattered. Nobles aren’t afforded the luxury of love, and especially ones with a Crest. Gonna be forced into some mating with a random noble alpha, best to avoid such things.”

“You love him?” She said surprised, “Yet you flirt with so many others?” _Uh, not the thing I’d hoped she’d take from that._

He shook his head, “Don’t you see? All people see is my Crest. The Gautier omega, awaiting precious orders from my father on whom to bed and produce more Gautier Crests,” he said, slightly ashamed. “I don’t intend to change the way I live. I’m a good-for-nothing, if you haven’t noticed, but I’m still a noble omega with a Crest. Best to have fun while I can.”

“Did you ever think of running away?”

“There was once a time I almost did,” he said, thinking of Felix beneath the large willow tree. “But you can’t run away from the way you were born.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love figuring out the places in the game where support conversations would happen, instead of just the weird side bars they take place in. I always felt Sylvain's B rank happened here, while brooding over his brother. It was fun to translate it into omegaverse!
> 
> Thank you for the support!
> 
>  **Next Time:**  
>  Felix POV  
> If his goal was to avoid the rain by spending time inside the sauna then he truly was an idiot. Sweat poured from every inch of his body, his drawers clung wet between his ass cheeks uncomfortably, and he struggled to breathe in the thick, humid air. It was the perfect place for him to be miserable.


	11. Scorched

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felix figures out how to deal with the rejection Sylvain dealt him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope this can serve as a bit of a distraction from today if you are in the US.

#  **_Chapter 11_ **

##  **_—Scorched—_ **

**—Academy Phase—Tower of Black Winds—Verdant Rain Moon—**

Felix stormed away from the Knights’ Hall not walking in any particular direction. Sylvain’s words had dug into his stomach, and he battled to prevent them from taking root, failing with each step.

‘ ** _I have plenty of other alphas to play with.’_** _Other alphas. Not you. Never you. He scented you and didn’t want you. Why would he want you? You’re a miserable excuse for an alpha._

“Pathetic.”

A low rumble reverberated across the sky. The Verdant Rain Moon bringing on a storm of its own to rival his.

His stomach growled deep and low, mimicking the sky. He still hadn’t eaten, recalling the abandoned plate of food he'd left with Ashe. Hunger stopped his tracks, and he listened to the winds kick up, water breeching somewhere off distance. His feet had taken him to the bridge leading to the Cathedral.

 _Why couldn’t he have just told me what was bothering him? If it wasn’t Miklan then what could it possibly be?_ He tightened his fists, _should have just killed that fuck, none of this would have happened._ He relived again how Sylvain purposely scented him; an act as aggressive as it had been intimate. A shudder went down his spine. He almost had dared to dip him into a forceful kiss in that moment had it not been for the intense argument at hand.

“I’m such a dumbass.” Small droplets began to pitifully mark on the stone bridge. Felix looked up into the sky, closing his eyes shut, willing his emotions gone. He needed calmness, a zen to guide him through the dense brush of emotions swelling inside, but found the task impossible. It'd be easier with a sword in hand.

 _‘_ ** _I have plenty of other alphas to play with.’_** _Why would he say such a thing? We’re all well aware he sleeps around._ The wound Sylvain had left in his heart twisted as comprehension formed; _because he knew it would hurt you._

“Idiot.”

A new thought was trying to edge itself over the horizon of his mind—Sylvain had said that for a reason—but the noise of students behind him alerted him back to his surroundings. He cursed, not wanting to be out in the open any longer. He still needed food, but knew Ingrid and, worse yet, Ashe would likely bother him if he returned to the Dining Hall. He’d need to go later. Instead his feet guided him to his familiar home, the training grounds. A calm mind would be sure to find him through the repetitive nature of his long past perfected drills.

He did say he’d be in his room what with the old man coming around, but he wouldn’t actually arrive for another day or so. And with the tone the Professor had told him she’d likely wanted to discuss it with him. He scowled, conversation was the last thing he desired right now.

He leaned to open the doors to the training grounds, but a rush of force went through his body, stilling his hand. **‘ _Nobody needs to train that often, Felix, nobody!’_** He lowered his hand from the door.

 _What do I do?_ The pathetic sputterings of rain had now grown into a steady stream. He needed to decide quickly or be drenched.

The sauna was nearby. He normally avoided going, despising the heat. _Perfect. No one would think to search for me there._

* * *

If his goal was to avoid the rain by spending time inside the sauna then he truly was an idiot. Sweat poured from every inch of his body, his drawers clung wet between his ass cheeks uncomfortably, and he struggled to breathe in the thick, humid air. It was the perfect place for him to be miserable.

 _Saints, it’s hotter than Cichol’s asshole in here._ No one else was present in the alpha/beta side of the building and despite asking Boris to keep the steam low, it felt like a tropical rainforest.

Between his stomach growling and the heat making him feel close to nauseous he was able to take his mind off Sylvain and just sit. He took gradual, long breaths, inhaling the moisture and felt his nerves calming. Finally he could focus on what had gone wrong.

His apology had failed so now he’d need a new one. Sylvain was right about something as he was partially ashamed for ceasing his letters, but he had thought Sylvain had known why—he’d never shown up to the willow tree and had instead been found hanging on the Boar’s neck.

He formed a weak fist and tapped the bench. _Wait, no_ _he’s_ _the one who should be apologizing. And that damn bastard had the gall to scent me._ His ears burned red, something was aching in him and he didn’t know what—no, he didn’t want to know what, willing himself to ignore what he realized earlier on the bridge. He needed to stop thinking, more heat should do it. He was about to call for Olga—

 _BANG BANG_

“Olga, more heat, please!”

Felix nearly flew out of his seat at the noise and voice that came from behind him. He turned, heart racing to see Petra looming in the corner of the room. He’d somehow missed her when walking in.

“What the—Petra!?”

“Hello Felix, I did not mean to be startling you,” she said, although her smile indicated she had gotten some amusement from his reaction. “Did you think you were alone?” Her crimson eyes sparkled at her.

He grunted a response and she moved to sit closer to him. This annoyed him, but the uncomfortable sweat prevented him from moving. A loud hiss of steam entered the space.

“I did not know you to be enjoying the sauna. I thought those from the Kingdom were preferring—preferred colder climates,” she said.

“We do, I just—needed a place to think.”

“Oh, the warm air is a great place to be thinking. In Brigid, I would be climbing the tallest tree to rest during the night heat. Warm breeze and stars would carry my many thoughts,” she sighed and leaned back wistfully. While he was a melted disaster, she not only thrived in the humid environment, but glittered. A princess indeed.

He couldn’t help looking at her. She was leaning back, eyes closed, pretending to see the stars of her home and consequently allowing ample view of her body. Her undershirt clung to her breasts, darkened nipples scarcely viewable, with her shorts showing off her toned legs. He was able to spot a yellowing bruise on her thigh, and swallowed deep upon realizing that had been from him.

He matched her posture—maybe he could let these Brigid stars carry his thoughts away from the blizzard that was Sylvain, but his lidded eyes fell upon a view of her neck and back. More scarred tattoos decorated her body and he was inclined to inquire about them. However, the steam and heat made his eyes heavy and his gaze moved southward until it rested on her plump ass where he could only wonder if he’d left bruises there as well. His breath quickened slightly, but felt entirely sluggish under the dense air. His eyes moved leisurely back to her face, unaware he was subconsciously trying to patch the wound Sylvain had left, only to see her side-eyeing him already. She smiled, “How was your time of great desire?”

He flicked his eyes quickly back to the wall, “Fine.”

She frowned and cocked her head, “Is this what is giving you many thoughts to be had?”

“No.” His heart sunk slightly and with it came a rush of dizziness, **‘ _I have plenty of other alphas to play with.’_**

She shifted, but didn’t respond and they sat quietly.He gritted his teeth and looked at her again, a need swelling in his chest to hold someone close. It wasn’t a primal feeling, like he had to seize and claim her for his own, but more like yearning to not being alone. She would feel nice against him—he already _knew_ she’d feel nice against him.

Tentatively, he placed a hand over hers and grew confident when she didn’t react. He weaved his fingers between hers, caressing his thumb along her wrist. His breath slowed. _Yes, this could be nice._

“Felix,” she said, their eyes matching each other. She flipped her hand, grabbing his tightly and turned to face him. He expected his heart to be pounding, breath to be hastening, or even his dick to be stirring, but there was nothing. Just the calm knowledge of already knowing what’s to come. Or was it the empty space Sylvain had torn out of him? It didn’t matter, holding her hand felt so incredibly nice.

“I have much gratitude for your friendship. Not many express interest in my homeland,” she continued. She moved to take his hand in both of hers, but looked away from him. “It gives me pride to fulfill my role as beta, but _only_ at times of battle and when lives are at stake.” She returned his hand to rest on his thigh, but maintained connection. “I hope you have understanding. It would continue to bring me great joy to spar with you and I do not wish for that to be ending.”

“Of course,” he said coldly, staring ahead.

She released herself from him and smiled. “I am willing to provide you with—” and she paused and frowned, “-I am forgetting the word—guidance?”

He knew where this was going. She was offering to block off any needy omegas from entering his space during a rut, or in reality, protect any nearby omegas from him.

“Guardianship.” He face lit up at the correction and he looked away in shame, dick traitorously pulsing to life.

“Guardianship! I am willing to provide you guardianship during your times of great desire should you not want omega present.”

“Fine. Whatever,” he said in a tone indicating he was done with the discussion.

She stood and he could see her give her traditional bow from the corner of his eye.

“Very well, I will be leaving you to your many thoughts,” she said and left.

_Rejection._

He’d been trying to ignore it but Petra had managed to cut the feeling into him as well. His cheeks burned with boiling blood and shame.

**‘ _I have plenty of other alphas to play with.’_**

_I couldn’t hide myself well enough and_ _he knows_ _and knew exactly how to strike me down because of it._

 _“Fuck,”_ he whispered and wiped off more sweat from his brow. He was starting to feel ill under the circumstances and while passing out almost seemed favorable, he needed to take care of himself. He stood up and stumbled to catch himself on a wall, the ground having seemingly shifted underneath him.

“Ugh, you’re weak,” he grunted. _And I hate you._

* * *

His father arrived two days later and Felix made good on his word to be in his room, camping out inside the bare room. No way was he going to been seen out, a chance for the old man to corner him down, and impart meaningless virtues. No need to lose his temper and cause a scene, and besides, he’d be entertained more than enough with the Boar to pay him a visit inside his dorm room.

He avoided Sylvain as much as he could; a task made easy when it seemed Sylvain was spending all his free time outside Monastery grounds, likely with one of his many alphas he so apparently cherished. He growled and kicked the side of the desk, unable to deter his mind away from the omega even days after their fight.

Holed up in his room, there was not much to do. He kept it bare on purpose—no personal items save the one he kept on his person at all time. He had parchment, but there was no one to write and he wasn’t one for keeping journals like Ingrid did. He had fine weapon cleaning kits tucked under his bed, but no weapons to clean nor maintain as they were banned from the dormitories. He kicked the bolted down desk harder, feeling the pain radiate in his foot for a moments worth of relief from the sheer levels of boredom he was experiencing.

He kicked it again, and something shifted inside the desk. Felix furled his eyebrows—it should be empty except for some parchment and pens. He opened the bottom drawer to see the book Ashe had offloaded to him, “ _Thorns of the Righteous: Sir Alexandre Chevallier and the Harrowing Stead._ ” He groaned, remembering why he’d shoved it in the drawer. He’d already known the story, perhaps even still had it memorized after the number of times he’d begged Glenn to read it to him.

Nothing better to do, he sat on his bed and reread the story, this time without Glenn’s voice to guide him. In truth this was one of a series of stories featuring the knight—there were four he thinks—but this one was his favorite. It was the first to feature Sir Chevallier’s squire, Small Louis, who proved his worth by taming the Harrowing Stead. When Glenn would read to him, he’d replace Small Louis with Small Felix. He loved the squire in the story, so full of hope and kindness for those around him. Secretly, he had hoped to one day squire for his brother. Instead he’d squired for the Prince and that had turned out _brilliantly_.

Revisiting the story near adulthood forced Felix to realize how right Ashe was in his judgement of him. He was far more like the knight than the squire, who was disturbed by the grim reality the village may need put down their only form transportation, searching for solutions when the obvious was to care for the stead. Ashe was like Small Louis, kind in his approach, never backing down from believing everything would end just fine. 'Cause of course things ended fine in stories.

In reality, the horse would have been put down, the village would have been driven into desolation, and the knight likely would have been ironically killed by the stead, or something. 'Cause that’s what knights do. They die.

He growled, closing the book, but holding it to his chest. He missed his brother.

Maybe the knight could have sent for aid instead. Purchased another horse for the small village or an oxen. That’s what Felix would have done. Something sensible.

_Knock, Knock._

He sat up, staring daggers at the door. _Go away, I’m not here._

“Your Professor informed me I would find you here. No use pretending you’re not, Felix.”

He trudged to the door, opening it to see Duke Rodrigue. He scowled, “What do you want?”

He didn’t answer immediately, stepping inside as if he owned the place, examining the bare room. Felix didn’t bother closing the door behind him; the sooner he’s out the better.

“And is that how you speak with your Professor? I will not have my son speaking with such rudeness.”

“Why are you here? His Royal Highness is elsewhere.” Rodrigue wasn’t shy about showering his affections towards the boar, much to Felix’s chagrin.

“I have already spoken with His Royal Highness, and attended tea with your Professor. I am here now, to speak with my son. I received your letter shortly before departure.” Ah. So it would be one of _those_ conversations.

“I’m doing fine. The facilities here are more than adequate. You don’t need to be hiring me more whores.”

The old man sighed, clearly not having the energy to rehash their argument on what constituted a whore. “Your letter made no indication I would need to. I—“ he looked around the room, grasping for something other than the strained apologies they were used to giving each other. He caught eye of the book on his bed, “Is that _Thorns of the Righteous?_ I thought you got rid of all of them?”

“I did, it’s a—“ _friend’s?_ Who is Ashe to Felix? “—a classmate’s of mine. He forgot it in the library, I was going to return it to him.”

“Huh,” he chuckled. “You two loved those books so much,” he said softly.

“Could we not?” If his father brings up Glenn any more this was sure to spark a screaming match. Cold eyes darted to Felix, and he watched as Rodrigue set his shoulders.

Now speaking with authority, “I am glad you have found the assistance of a beta to be aiding you.” Felix rolled his eyes, of course he wouldn’t get an apology. Why get a beta when he can just hire omega whores disguised as alpha tamers? “But I find myself needing to remind you to keep your desires under qualm. I will not be hearing of your moods obstructing the Professors abilities to lead and instruct—“

“Tch, the Professor can handle herself.”

“—Nor will I be tolerating anymore of this childish nonsense regarding Sylvain.” Felix’s eyes flicked towards him with murderous intent at the mention of his name. “I promised you I would delay your mating arrangements until after graduation, and I will, but you _must_ behave yourself.”

Felix’s ears burned red. “You needn’t worry,” he grumbled, scowling at the memory of their fight. Sylvain didn’t want him? Has other alphas to mate with? Fine. So be it.

Rodrigue’s expression softened. “Ingrid told me the two of you exchanged words—”

“We’re fine.” They weren’t, and Ingrid soon wouldn’t be either. _Fucking snitch. And when I’ve kept her secret for so long._

“Very well, but do try to learn to contain your childish impulses with your remaining time here. It would not reflect well upon on your stature as alpha for it to continue outside this establishment.” Felix gritted his teeth. The old man reached to place a hand on his shoulder, and Felix steeled his nerves to let him. To prove him wrong. “Study well. I know you’ll do great.” He smiled warmly at his son and departed, leaving Felix soured, wishing and knowing it would be so much easier if he could just hate him.

He sat on the bed, deflated. His father always had a way of talking around issues and their consequences, but Felix understood him clearly: _You and Sylvain aren’t happening, drop it now; Get your act together, or I won’t be able to find you a mate at all. Don’t disappoint me._

He collapsed sideways on the bed, tugging his knees in towards his chest. _Pathetic excuse of an alpha, no amount of training nor fighting will—_ His eyes caught the spine of the book, worn from travels and use. No matter what he did it wouldn’t matter, so perhaps he should stop trying and focus on what he wanted to do with his life. So he wouldn’t get a mate? Fine. He’s a second son, even now. He could use his time going out into the world and helping people who needed it and not endlessly entertaining nobles or killing whoever the Church deemed sinful enough at the drop of a hat.

He pulled himself smaller, grasping around his knees. _You're just a runt._

He'd liked Small Louis when he was younger because he'd been a small alpha. In the sequels, many had underestimated his abilities which Sir Chevallier used to their advantage. He could work on being more kind, he supposed. Not like Small Louis, but in his own way, as a tool to surprise his own opponents. He’ll return the book to Ashe tomorrow, maybe even dine with him. A good mercenary always needs backup, right? He’ll ask the Professor her thoughts on that when they spar next.

He opened up the book to where he’d left off. Sir Chevallier was about to attempt to tame the horse for the first time only to be rear kicked into the mud and laughed at by Small Louis. Yeah, he’ll start working on being kinder tomorrow…he still needed to yell at Ingrid for talking to his father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Felix: I'm not going to do what you say Dad! Ugh!  
> Also Felix: _does mental backflips to actually follow instructions_
> 
> Love you all! Hope you're able to stay safe and sane.
> 
>  **Next Time:**  
>  The Prince  
> Sylvain distracts himself by hanging out with Dimitri  
> "Mercedes exited the building nearby, Sylvain’s eyes flickered to her just beyond the Prince’s shoulder. She gave pause upon seeing the two of them and gave a wave with a cherry smile and knowing look in her eye that only another omega would recognize. _Danger._ "


	12. The Prince

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flayn is missing and while the Professor works hard to search her out, Dimitri asks Sylvain to fill in for her.
> 
> The Prince attempts to apologize.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would you look at that! I actually wrote some fluff for this fic. Enjoy Sylvain being cute. 
> 
> More notes on this omegaverse:  
> All omegas experience a desire to nest during their heat. However, in more sexually repressed cultures, such as the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, and to a certain extent all of Fodlan, unmated omegas are taught not to build nests as it is seen as inviting pregnancy out of matehood, and therefore sinful and undesirable. Except for the most pious, this is generally seen as bullshit and most omegas have at least one alpha scented item for their heats. A mated omega would construct a large nest consisting of multiple sheets, blankets, pillows, and clothing items from their mate whereas an unmated omega would have one or two items from a pleasant smelling alpha, secretly hidden away.

#  **Chapter 12**

##  **—The Prince—**

**—Academy Phase—Rumors of a Reaper—Horsebow Moon—**

Seteth’s little sister was missing, a terrible thing of course, but Sylvain couldn’t help but be a tiny bit pleased that the major worry-fest had finally shifted away from him. The whole Monastery was searching for her, but he was pretty sure she’d just run off with some romantic partner. Poor thing hardly got any time alone with anyone. It’s what he would do if he had an overbearing brother like that.

Not that he had any brother at all anymore.

The Professor had been the one to do the deed, ultimately with a swish of her chain Relic. The Lance of Ruin had somehow tainted Miklan’s already corrupt soul, or, as he liked to say outwardly, his body finally matched his soul. Internally, he wondered if that beast also hid within him…He was glad the Professor had been the one to do it, he didn’t think he could have faced Miklan like that—to gaze upon the reflection of his own soul.

After the battle, he’d carried his brother's body by himself down the tower to bury him, not caring about the storming rain beating on his back. He was still his brother after all, the only other being who knew what life was like under Margrave Gautier. He might not have done the same for him, but by the Goddess he’d wouldn’t leave him to the rats, even if that was what he deserved. He’d dug the muddy grave himself and stood silently once it was complete, words never really finding him.

After a time Ingrid had joined him and placed a hand on his shoulder in support, soon followed by Dimitri. He caught Felix lingering in the tree line and when their eyes met he’d given him a short nod of the head in acknowledgement. Once the Professor had wandered in to see where they’d all gone, the rest of the Blue Lions joined to stand in silent support of Sylvain. He had to summon all his courage not to cry—not for Miklan, that bastard had already taken enough of his tears—but for the love his house had shown him.

One by one his fellow students left, leaving the Professor to give him a pat on the shoulder along with a knowing look before departing.

Miklan was his brother. Neither of them had been asked to be born. None of this had been his fault and he wished deeply for things to be different. For their roles to have been swapped. He would have given his brother his Crest in a heartbeat if he could have. Maybe then he would have had a caring supportive brother like Glenn.

Miklan had only managed to impart one good lesson into him during his whole miserable life. He’d been four with Miklan nearly nine when he’d ‘accidentally’ forgotten him on the side of a mountain one particularly bad winter. ' _Dad doesn’t care about either of us,'_ he'd said. It was his first glimpse into understanding what their father actually loved. It wasn’t his sons. It was his Crest’s legacy. He had closed his eyes, silently thanking Miklan.

He still pissed on his grave before leaving.

Felix, who’d remained in the trees, strolled up to join him in desecrating the new grave.

“You’re brother was an ass,” Felix had said, speaking to him for the first time since their argument.

“ _Such_ an ass.”

“Good riddance,” he had spat, finishing up.

Maybe it had been something to do with the fact he was pissing on his brother’s grave with his best friend in the pouring rain. That alone seemed absurd enough, only to pile on the fact Miklan had transformed into a terrible beast just hours before. Or maybe it had been because that was the thing that finally got Felix to speak a word to him since their argument. Or maybe it had simply been the stress of the month finally breaking him, but Sylvain had started to laugh and could not stop.

“Tch. I’m still mad at you,” Felix had groaned and walked away. Sylvain had grabbed his gut, laughing so hard it hurt all his fresh wounds. He had collapsed to the ground, tears spilling from his eyes and stayed there as laughs turned into sobs, until Felix had wordlessly returned to collect him for their trek home.

* * *

Back at the Monastery, Sylvain had woken up to find that a letter, sealed with the Fraldarius Crest, had been slid under his door. Its contents, however, barely constituted a letter as all the envelope contained was a small torn up piece of parchment with a hastily scribbled line.

> _I’m glad you’re okay. -F_

He chuckled. Those words coming from Felix were practically a love confession, even if that wasn’t the case here. No, this was Felix extending an olive branch, an apology as a way to end their stupid spat. He smiled and turned to his desk to write back, still groggy from waking up, wearing nothing but his drawers, hair a mess, bandages covering his wounds.

> _There’s no need to apologize, Fe. I was the one who said the hurtful things. I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry._

He contemplated adding in his thoughts on the beast they’d seen Miklan turn into, and his worries on if that existed in him. They used to share so much with each other before, but he had really hit Felix in a place that hurt. He knew he was slightly jealous of him sleeping around so much, but hadn’t anticipate it would bruise him to this extent. It almost made him wonder if—

_It’s just his stupid hormones, he doesn’t actually love you or anything._

_Poor dude probably spends his whole rut thinking of me._ The thought was meant to evoke pity on Felix, but his body ached from the thought, the fabric of his drawers stirring in interest. His half-awake mind continued the train of thought. Felix touching himself, thinking of _him._ Wanting him so bad he smashes all his furniture in desperate attempt to find him. He hummed, unaware how quickly and easily the fantasy had taken him. _He probably wants to throw me against the wall, fill me up repeatedly._ A gentle stretching radiated inside his abdomen, slick beginning to pucker at his asshole.

He pursed his lips and set the quill down. He’d need both hands free for what he wanted.

He guided a hand down his drawers, cupping his own ass, imagining it was Felix’s hand as he slipped a tentative digit near his entrance. He leaned forward to better position himself, head resting on the desk. _He wants to pin me to his bed, make me his whore._ A finger slipped inside, quickly followed by another, jaw going slack as he let out a whined moan. _Fuck me senseless for days._ He wanted to feel Felix inside him, but there was a need deeper than just taking in his dick. He wanted him inside his very essence, to feel him everywhere, to tear his skin apart until he wasn’t him anymore. He let out a pained moan as he clawed his other hand into his thigh, crimson marks tracing behind, dragging it towards his stiff dick. Pain and pleasure mixing in just the way he loved.

Through the window he could hear the distant bell chimes from the cathedral. “Shit!” He’d already slept through training, and if he kept this up he’d miss lecture as well. He’d missed too many already and the Professor would certainly give him a detention if he missed again. “ _Fuck_!” He extruded his hand, wiping the slick onto his drawers. Breathing heavily he picked his head back up off the desk only to stare down at the half-written letter, having completely forgotten what had made him so horny to begin with.

**_‘He doesn’t want you. An ugly, disgusting, pathetic excuse for an omega.’_ **

“Shut up.”

He quickly finished up the letter and dressed. He would look and smell terrible, but at least he’d be there in time—so long as he sprinted. He slid the letter under Felix’s door and bolted toward the Blue Lion classroom.

There’d be no way he’d be able to pay attention today. He needed to take a trip into town, likely see that one desperate alpha who always said yes to him. There was no way he _wasn’t_ getting dick tonight.

* * *

And so now there he stood in the dining hall after lunch observing the student body, happy to brood over his dead brother alone and in public. There was this gloominess to the whole Monastery since Flayn’s disappearance. He’d been distracted during the lecture for his own reasons, but the Professor was outright on another planet, her concern for Flayn apparent. The feisty green-hair girl was on everyone’s mind except his so it seemed.

Dorothea even made an announcement to delay her birthday celebration, an opera she'd been putting together, until Flayn was found. This meant, to Sylvain's dismay, the eagerly anticipated (and secret) after-party she was also planning would be delayed as well. Just the day prior to Flayn's disappearance she'd been bragging to him and Ingrid about how noble's were lacking in the celebration department. 'Let a commoner show you how it's done, right Ashe?' she had said, much to Ashe's embarrassment. Of course Ashe refused to elaborate, not with ~~Dimitri~~ His Royal Highness nearby. 

At this point it was only the promise of a "real" party and the hope that Felix would respond to his letter that kept him going through the day. 

He watched the Professor move from person to person inside dining hall, asking each about Flayn's potential whereabouts. She gave him a curt scolding when he suggested she might have run off on her own.

He lingered in the hall a little longer after lunch, unsure what to do with his small amount of free time, when Dimitri approached him.

“Ah Sylvain, perfect, do you happen to have some time open right now?”

“Yeah, I just got stable duty in the evening. What’s up?”

“I’m needing someone to assist me with training the orphans today, the Professor would normally accompany me, but she is currently heading the search for Flayn.”

“I mean sure, but I don’t know how good with kids I’ll be…” It wasn’t that he hated kids or anything. He just was always concerned a side of him he didn’t like would come out.

“Nonsense, Ingrid is always going on how you behave like a child. You’ll do great.”

“Uh, that was a joke, right?” He swears Dimitri has no sense of tone when making certain remarks. Dimitri merely chuckled and beckoned him along.

* * *

The orphans were incredibly well behaved and disciplined. They all had a proper stance and grips on their wooden swords. Honestly, he didn’t know what else to expect knowing the Professor abilities.

Dimitri was kind, yet firm in instructing the children and Sylvain frankly didn’t know why he was needed. Dimitri guided the kids through some basic stances and warm up swings while Sylvain walked the perimeter, occasionally fixing a grip or footwork. They all looked absolutely enthralled with the Prince. He was like a gallant knight who’d jumped straight out of a book to train the group of lonely orphans. 'Course Dimitri wasn’t all too different from them, an orphan himself, and the pride he had in teaching them really shined through.

Sylvain spotted a particular snot-nosed kid who was looking far too bored to have a wooden sword in her hands. Given enough time she’d start using it to hit other children. He knew, 'cause that’s exactly what he’d do. So he moved around the group until she could see him, Dimitri out of view, and stuck his tongue out at her, covertly. She looked at him incredulously and immediately stuck her tongue out back at him, dropping her sword grip.

“Cynthia, please pay attention.”

Sylvain wiggled his eyebrows at the girl—Cynthia—and stuck out his tongue again. Her eyes narrowed, and when Dimitri turned to demonstrate, she quickly got him back. He smiled slyly. The game was afoot and it was called Don’t Get Caught.

Eventually they paired off all the kids for some sparring practice. He and Cynthia continued their covert battle behind the Prince’s back until a young boy hit the ground crying, clutching his shin, his sparring partner looking shocked with worry. It was clearly an accident and the two officers-in-training moved in to settle the matter, Dimitri taking the offender and Sylvain taking the injured.

The kid was crying, but he noted no physical tears were coming out; was likely just the shock of getting hit that’d hurt him.

“Hey bud, looks like you got hit real hard. Can I see?” Sylvain said sweetly. The boy gently moved his hands away, revealing barely a red mark from clutching his leg so hard. There wasn't even evidence of a bruise forming. The kid, looking maybe about six, still wailed in pain. Sylvain twisted his face into something that looked gravely concerned. “I don’t know…that looks pretty bad.” The boy nodded between sniffles. Sylvain grimaced and made some noises between his teeth, “How much does it hurt?”

“A lot,” said the boy, eyebrows pinched, big eyes looking up at Sylvain. He almost wanted to laugh, the young boy reminding him of the times Felix would come to him crying, but he kept his face serious.

“A lot you say…” He paused for dramatic effect. “Do you think I should cut if off?” The absurdity of his question hit the kid like a brick wall and he stopped crying in an instant, with a look of absolute ‘ _why would you think that’_ upon his face.

“NO!” the boy yelped.

Sylvain chuckled and patted the boy on his back. “I think you’ll live.” He gave a hand to help the boy stand and said louder to the crowd, “Our valiant hero has survived to fight another day! Here here!” And gave him a bow, earning the young boy pink-tinted ears and applause from his peers. Dimitri, on the other hand, was still consoling (scolding?) the other boy. Sylvain took the opportunity to correct Cynthia on her form and give her yet another funny face, much to her delight.

* * *

Once the “class” was over, Dimitri offered to walk back with Sylvain to the stables.

“You know, you’re really great with kids,” Dimitri said. Sylvain blushed slightly, he hadn’t expected to have so much fun and it had been a great distraction from his morning thoughts.

“You think so?” The compliment truly hit his heart. He’d thought about being a mom only a handful of times. ‘Course he would recall how terrible his childhood had been every time the subject grazed his mind. Would he also be a shitty parent? He had a long list of what not to do, but would it be enough? One thing was for certain, by Macuil’s Blade he’d never have them while his father still breathed.  
“You’re a natural. Why Cynthia was completely enamored with you, I’ve never seen her so focused, and the way you handled little Georgie.” His eyes got large and animated, “I couldn’t believe how quick he went from crying to smiling.”

Sylvain attempted to downplay the compliment, he really hadn’t done anything but hang out with some kids for an hour. “It was nothing, just one snot-nosed brat knowing another.”

“Well, I’m impressed. Are you…,” he paused, his tone shifting in a way the made Sylvain suspect whatever was coming next, Dimitri felt was a risk. “Are you wanting kids of your own? Someday I mean.” Sylvain sucked in some air, the Prince’s tone was thick with subtext. _Dammit Dimitri, why couldn’t this been just us hanging out, having a good time as friends for once._

He placed a hand lovingly on his womb, “Someday!? Dimitri, how could you? I’m expecting twins next month! My mate and I are frankly quite upset the Royal family has yet to send a gift.” Dimitri laughed, and fuck him if it wasn’t as charming as Saint Cethleann herself. It was meant to disarm the topic, but the Prince was walking noticeably closer to him after that as they crossed the bridge. Sylvain was on edge. He didn’t like it when the Prince was so forward, unpredictable.

“I’m serious. You’re great with kids. I can easily imagine you with several of your own.”

“ _Yeah, and wouldn’t you like that,_ ” he mumbled under his breath, looking off to the graveyard as they walked. Everyone else may have moved on to fret about Flayn, but Sylvain was still sortingthough some shit. He’d been anticipating another letter from his father regarding his matehood any day now since he’d taken up mantle as the wielder of the Lance of Ruin. It was only a matter of time until he’d need to submit to His Royal Highness. Not that it’d be a terrible life, that as the Queen of Faerghus—there was just this shadow surrounding Dimitri at times and he couldn’t help how it put him on edge in the same way his father does. Besides, he’d much rather be mated with Felix.

Dimitri stopped dead in his tracks. There’s no way he could have heard his mumble, but he seemed to have reacted. “Hm? What’s wrong man?”

“Sylvain,” his voice sounded strained, “I—I owe you an apology.”

“What? For telling me I’d look good with some kids of my own around? Please.”

“The Grand Tourney.”

Sylvain sighed and swallowed, moving to lean against the ledge bordering the cemetery, arms crossed, guarded. He hated to think about that evening, but this was His Royal Highness, Prince Dimitri. He’d need to hear him out.

“I shouldn’t have—it wasn’t—“ The Prince struggled to find his words, but Sylvain waited patiently and on edge. There was no way he was going to let his stupid mouth provoke him. Thinking back to that night, it was the only time he could actually understand why Felix referred to Dimitri as a beast. He wanted to say ‘ _it was nothing, don’t worry about it,’_ but every bone in his body screamed at him to wait silently.

Finally, the Prince found his words, “I forced you into a position you clearly did not desire, despite your, um—” He looked uncomfortable. Sylvain stiffened, but stayed silent, betting with himself on if the devout follower of the Goddess could actually say ‘slick.’

Mercedes exited the building nearby, and Sylvain’s eyes flickered to her just beyond the Prince’s shoulder. She gave pause upon seeing the two of them and gave a wave with a cherry smile and knowing look in her eye that only another omega would recognize. _Danger?_ it said. He waved back, giving her an _okay_ nod—he didn’t want anyone else being pulled into their shit, but was thankful for her silent support.

Dimitri looked back, alarmed someone else was in the vicinity.

“Perhaps we should talk about this later, in private.”

He lifted his hand casually and shrugged, “Aw, com’on you’re doing so great though.” He plastered a fake smile to help bolster his outward receptiveness. He might be able to turn this to his advantage if he could keep him talking.

The Prince cleared his throat. “This is by no means an excuse, but I had been struggling with controlling—ah, this is such an awkward thing to be saying in public,” he rambled quietly. Poor Dimitri was struggling so hard Sylvain was actually starting to feel bad for him. _I should just put him out of his misery,_ but he still held back, fearful his dumb mouth would ruin it. There was something he needed out of the Prince, and it wasn’t an apology.

“I just want you to know," the Prince continued, "I’m older and more experienced now. I feel an immense amount of guilt for nearly forcing you to—“ _suck your dick,_ Sylvain recalled. _“—_ do something you didn’t wish for. I’m very glad you hit me. I one hundred percent deserved that. I want you to feel safe around me and I would never—“

“It’s water under the bridge, man. You apologized then, you don’t need to again now.” It hadn’t been the sexual favor that’d upset him anyways. Rather, it’d been the sudden crazed obsession with bond-biting him then and there. “Although I am curious,” Sylvain continued, knowing a slight manipulation would be needed. “You never seemed interested in me like that before then. You had mentioned something about the late King?” He stood up and began walking to the stables again, trying to keep the topic casual. The Prince followed.

“I’d forgotten I had mentioned that…yes, my father had shared news of the Margrave proposing a promise-mating between us the day of the Tragedy. I suppose I had somehow warped that in my mind upon—well, you know.” Sylvain looked at him expectantly, he was so close now. He just needed His Royal Highness to say he didn’t plan on pursuing it. Goddess knows the Margrave would never drop it willingly.

He continued, “Please don’t think I’d entertain any proposals. You’re my friend, Sylvain, least I hope you consider me a friend still.”

The clouds parted, sun shined upon his head, and the Saints sung a heavenly chorus in his ears; the weight of the world had lifted from his shoulders.

He couldn’t help but grin ear to ear. “Of course you’re my friend, Dimitri. But do me a favor let my father know, he can be quite stubborn.”

“Of course, Sylvain. I-I fully intend on mating with someone I share a mutual love with first. As King, I should have no problem doing so, but as your friend I genuinely wish the same for you as well.”

_Someone he loves?_ **‘ _Told you.’_**

It was supposed to be a nice sentiment, but to Sylvain felt like a cold slap in the face and reminded him of his intended plans for the evening.

Dimitri was still speaking, “Although the way you wildly carouse with alphas—I’m afraid that behavior simply will not do. I think it’s time someone talked some sense into you, and it seems the task has fallen to me.” Sylvain groaned. Least Dimitri was feeling relaxed enough to lecture him instead of awkwardly navigate through sexual terms. “Sylvain, I’m not saying you can't enjoy yourself at night. But you must learn the art of moderation. Again and again, you end up wandering the streets until the early morning…”

Dimitri lectured him all through his stable duty. But Sylvain managed to strike up a playful deal. He’d start taking his studies more seriously, finally pass his mage exam, and in exchange Dimitri would accompany him into town. Sylvain knew he had the Prince’s word on the matter, but he’d be able to properly relax once he could see another omega around his neck.

* * *

It was early morning and Sylvain was making his way back to his dorm. He’d left Dimitri with some cute omega in the early evening to search out that desperate alpha—the one who smelled like cedar.

He found her. They fucked. It was terrible.

She had been too soft with him. Too polite. Even after he’d asked her to be rough. Repeatedly. He’d barely gotten off and had faked an orgasm just to get her to climax. She begged him to stay with her, warning him of a spooky Death Knight roaming the streets at night. He assured her he would and cuddled into her body.

He'd left as soon as she'd passed out. Like an asshole.

He’d been antsy this morning, but now he was downright frustrated. It was depressing having to settle for his own hands, but it’d have to do.

The sound of foot steps tore him from his thoughts.

“Flayn?” He said tentatively.

“Hardly,” responded a smooth voice. He looked in the direction of the voice to see its owner step out of the shadows. A slender, purple-haired man emerged, biting a finger in a manner that was far too sexy for Sylvain’s current state of frustration. Sylvain huffed softly, utterly delighted by the vision of this creature. “Oho, I see that look of desperation. Don’t start the waterworks yet, Gautier—I regret to inform you, I’m not your type.”

“Hey, I might be known for chasing down women, but baby I know my way around a man’s body too,” he said walking towards him. “You seem to know my name, it’s only fair I know yours—“ He’d taken a step close enough to smell two scents radiating off him. He’d definitely just got laid.

The man was distinctly omega, and Sylvain felt dumb for not noticing the other subtle signs before now. More importantly he was scent marked completely with something he was now embarrassed to have been intimately familiar with. The parchment-scented alpha.

The man laughed, “I see you’ve finally figured it out. Life’s a real shame though, you’re certainly cute.”

“Who…?”

The purple-haired man giggled, placing a finger over his lips, and stalked back into the shadows.

* * *

Back in his dorm, he tore into his drawer containing his nest items. Normally, he’d only reserve them for his heat, but desperate times call for desperate measures. He chucked the parchment scent away and got to work on wrapping Felix’s torn shirt around his left hand, quickly disposing of his clothes. It was already early morning and if he was going to get off he’d need to work quickly or plan on no sleep.

He kissed the blood-stained wrappings, breathing the old autumn scent deep, embracing the feeling of the sweet safety it provided him with, and went to work on wholly destroying himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my first play through I had recruited Dorothea (GD route) and was wholly upset when this month had skipped ahead cause me'n'Claude were so good at sleuthing and found the Death Knight the first weekend, and thereby skipping Dorothea's birthday.  
> I actually reloaded my file just so I could have tea with her on her birthday.  
> And that's why she's going to have a whole chapter dedicated to her birthday party coming up soon. She deserves it!
> 
>  **Next Time:**  
>  A Dream Amongst Flowers  
> Felix vaguely awoke a time later to the sound of singing.  
> “Oh, how I love to step step step  
> On that very ledge up so high-  
> They drink and I drink and I fall fall fall!  
> Down below to the depths  
> And the monsters they attack, but then I smash with my hammer!”


	13. A Dream Amongst Flowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone prepares for Dorothea's after party event. Sylvain learns something new about Felix. Ingrid learns to trust Dorothea more. 
> 
> Felix takes a nap.

#  **Chapter 13**

##  **—A Dream Amongst Flowers—**

**—Academy Phase—Rumors of a Reaper—Horsebow Moon—**

He swore Sylvain must have swiped the paper against his scent gland before sticking it under his door. It radiated him and for a second he’d thought Sylvain meant to do more than just accept his apology until he read the words on the paper.

> _I just miss us, you know? The whole house came through for me there, but you’re the one who pulled me back up. You’re always there for me when I fall. Thanks man. -SJG_

He _would_ be there every time Sylvain would fall. He couldn’t help it, it was in his nature—to protect—and he _fucking_ loathed it. It was the very same nature that killed Glenn and it’d probably end up killing him as well. _For Sylvain. The buffoon. Of all people._

He smelled the letter, dick arousing from it, and watched the room shine slightly brighter; contemplating if he really wanted to give this desire credence. The letter was clear: you’re my friend and I trust you. But to have rubbed his scent over it…

Was it an apology for having scented him? Saying he’d reeked? It had definitely bruised his ego. Maybe it was a way of letting him know he did find him attractive, but just like, in general? Not in a ‘I’d have sex with you’ way. Because the letter definitely said they’re only friends.

Felix’s mind was stuck on _‘_ finds me attractive,’ and his dick was hard, stuck in his pants.

Stumbling to his bed, he unlaced his breeches, releasing himself to the air.

_Fuck it. Like it matters anyway._

* * *

**—Academy Phase—Field of the Eagle and Lion—Wyvern Moon—**

“Ingrid, darling, you’ll get wrinkles if you try to squeeze your eyebrows any closer together,” Dorothea said. She expected a response— it was known Ingrid had little to no care for her outward appearance (something she loved about her), but the exasperated little eye rolls she’d give were too adorable to pass up. The fact she gave no response at all was concerning.

She’d asked her to join her in the marketplace for a spot of tea and people watching, but in secret she’d prepared a gift for the alpha. She had met with Yurikins earlier in the week for one last failed attempt to convince him to join in on the performance, and to settle on some of the remaining details for the after party. As a way of apology he had shared the most bewitching tale of Ingrid downing meat from this local deli with fervor, and, well, the way to the heart is through the stomach so they say…She had purchased some rare cuts for Ingrid with what little allowance she had remaining. 

But Ingrid seemed downtrodden and there’s no way her gift would have the impact she’d want in her current state. She placed a gentle hand on her knee— _keep it chaste Dorothea, she hasn’t run off yet,_ “Darling, what’s on your mind?”

Ingrid continued to stare past the marketplace. Dorothea, now the one with growing wrinkles. She moved her hand to her shoulder and squeezed. “Ingrid?”

Nothing.

She waved her hand wildly in front of her face singing, “HEL-LO-O?”

Ingrid blinked and sighed heavily, “Oh—Dorothea, my apologies. I must have been lost in thought.”

“What’s the matter, Ingrid? I never hear you sigh like that.”

“I received yet another letter from my father.”

Dorothea scoffed. Count Galatea was certainly a kind enough noble, but he was determined to sell her off as some sort of breeding stud to the highest bidder. The whole thing reeked of sewer rats, and she could tell Ingrid gave her most valiant effort to pinch her nose and tolerate it. Dorothea had decided she’d be mad on her behalf after the first letter she’d shared with her.

“And what slimeball omega is it this time?” She tried to sound concerned, but jealously definitely had tinted her words.

“Dorothea…” Ingrid's tone was already full of regret. _Oh no…oh no no no_ “...I’m inclined to accept.” If this was an opera that would have been her cue to faint. “There isn’t any glaring reason not to…”

_Come on, Dorothea! Buck up! Now’s not the time to lose faith in love!_

“Just who is this omega anyway?” Certainly there was a way for her to get out of this.

“Lord Malcolm Delrow. I've not met him, though I've heard his name here and there. He began life as a merchant, but has somehow achieved rank in court. An enterprising noble from an allied territory. It's most likely that he wants his children to bear the Crest of Daphnel.”

_Bingo._

“Hmm, yes, that sounds about right. The jerk,” she said feeling thankful she wouldn’t have to lie. Well, not lie, she’d never lie to her darling Ingrid—just, flourish the truth.

“You sound as though you know him. Do you?” Dorothea’s well trained ear could pick up the tiny glimmer of hope in her voice. If filled her with reprise.

“Yes, I must admit that I know him. He tried to court me when I was a singer. _Before_ I’d presented.” She paused as they shared a face of disgust. “Best advice I can give you, Ingrid? Stay far, far away from this guy.”

She sighed, “I’ll need to go talk with him. I can’t afford for this to look poorly upon my House.”

“Why don’t we get the Professor to come with then? Trust me, you’ll need all the support you can get with this ooze of an omega.” She stood up to go find her, but Ingrid stayed her.

“We can’t do that now. You have your event tomorrow evening! Dorothea, you’ve been planning it for so long. I can’t just ask you to abandon that for me.”

Dorothea huffed, as if she wouldn’t leave everything an in instant for Ingrid. “Nonsense,” she said and tried to pull Ingrid up. _Damn her ridiculously strong body!_

 _“Dorothea_ ,” she said using her full commanding alpha voice. She melted right back down into her seat, albeit closer to the alpha now. _Hard to resist when she uses_ _that_ _voice._ “I want to enjoy the party with you, you’ve worked so hard, and not to mention Flayn is overjoyed to be invited to your performance. It’ll be her first outing as a Blue Lion. We’ll talk with the Professor about this after tomorrow night, okay?”

Dorothea nuzzled into her arm and in a half-joking way said, “O-kay, _alpha_.” Ingrid scoffed and rolled her eyes. Dorothea smiled warmly.

* * *

Between Jeritza exposing himself as the Death Knight and the crumbled letter from Sylvain that still lived on his nightstand, Felix thought it right to double the amount of training in his schedule. He figured if Sylvain would complain again, he’d point to Leonie overworking herself everywhere. Least he was only keeping it to the training grounds.

He’d stayed up far too late trying to perfect a parry he believed would outsmart the Professor only to get two hours of sleep before class training. He was already feeling the weariness by lunch. He’d need to take the next day off for any of this training to stick.

Ingrid had reminded him of Dorothea’s party while he struggled to focus on his meal.

“I’m not going,” he said curtly. He was planning on doing a shorter training session and going to bed early.

“Dorothea invited you! You’re going,” she demanded.

“Tch, she’s your friend, not mine. Why should I care? I need to train.”

“You can barely hold your spoon right now. Any more training isn’t going to do you good.”

He sighed, she was right, but he still didn’t want to go. Sylvain’s heat cycle was nearing, and the omega had been bragging all week about finding dates for the party. Felix wanted to be as far away from him as possible.

“She’s worked really hard to put this together and not everyone in Garreg Mach was invited, you know. It’s going to be a nice, relaxing time! When was the last time any of us just hung out?” This was turning into a lecture. One he didn’t care to listen to, despite the truth to her words. Better to appease now and disappoint later.

“Fine. I’ll go. Don’t expect me to stay long.” She smiled.

“Hey, Felix! There you are man!” Sylvain slapped him on the back, causing him to drop his spoon. “Come on, we need to get going.”

He picked his spoon up, tightening his grip in annoyance. “Go where exactly? Don’t think you’ll trick me into getting dinner with you instead of training again,” Felix said, annoyed.

“Wait. When did we—oh you’re talking about that double date!”

Ingrid rolled her eyes.“Ah yes,” she interjected, “I recall you ditched that poor, shy omega and _you_ were caught cheating. _Again_.” She was clearly more annoyed with Sylvain than him. Sylvain waved her off.

“No man, we’re late for weeding duty. Come on I want to get it done in time to freshen up for the party tonight.” _Shit._ He’d vaguely remembered the Professor placing them on weeding at the beginning of the week. He’d completely forgotten to factor it into his plans. “You seriously forget? And people say I have a thick skull.”

“You’re _both_ regular old boneheads,” Ingrid scoffed.

“Oh, Ingrid, whatever would we do without you. I doubt we could go hours without you being here to remind us how to sit up,” Sylvain responded dramatically. Felix let out a breathy chuckle. He couldn’t help how much the interaction felt like home.

He was also very, very tired.

“Whoa, did Felix just laugh?” Ingrid asked wide-eyed.

“I didn’t know that to be possible,” Sylvain said, eyes focused on him, face soft with wonderment. He looked genuinely charmed and Felix could see a small sparkle in the golden eyes. Trying to hide his blushing, Felix returned to his food.

“Weeding can wait and so can your bath. Let me finish my meal,” he said, not wanting the moment between the three friends to end.

* * *

“I don’t know,” Ingrid said, uneasy, “I just, don’t really feel like myself in this.” Dorothea had pulled out a dress for her to try on for tonight’s event. In truth, Dorothea’s birthday party was two events. The first, which everyone had been invited to, was a put together opera starring various members of the Monastery. The second was the after party—the real party—an exclusive, invite-only event at a tavern in town. All of the Blue Lions would be there along with a handful from her former class, the Black Eagles. Dorothea had promised to show all the ‘stuffy nobles’ what a real party was like. Ingrid was both terrified and excited.

“You know, I hate for you to doubt my abilities, but I have to agree. That dress is wearing you,” Dorothea said, lips twisting deep in thought.

“How is it even possible for clothing to wear a person?” Ingrid asked, confused. Dorothea shushed her, then inhaled sharply. Her eyes lit up with some sort of crazy idea Ingrid gave a thirty percent chance of her liking.

“Say, I think we need a different approach,” she said, and sauntered up behind Ingrid, grasping her shoulders and resting her chin on them. They peered at each other in the mirror. “Who exactly do you want to impress?”

“I don’t feel a need to impress anyone.”

“Nonsense, we all want to impress somebody, especially when romance will be in the air.”

“Okay, fine. I don’t _need_ to impress anyone,” she blushed. “You’re already here.”

“I’m flattered,” Dorothea said in a dismissive tone. Nothing, it seemed, would distract her from whatever idea she had. “But I was thinking…are they’re any _alphas_ you want to be,” she traced a hand down dangerously near her hips, “impressing?”

Ingrid turned, aghast. “Dorothea! I—“

“Oh, come now, we’re past this. Clothes should make you feel powerful! You should look at yourself in the mirror and go ‘Damn! I’d knot me!’”

“ _Dorothea!”_ Ingrid gasped. She was definitely blushing red now. Dorothea ignored her pleas, and spun her around by the hips, holding her tight.

“Darling,” she said right into her ear. Ingrid shuddered. “It’s a party. A chance to cut loose from all this work we’ve been doing. I’m not saying you go off riding into the sunset with an alpha. Especially when I’d rather it be me,” she added darkly. “You can tell me. Who do you want passing a look at you tonight.” Dorothea’s body was pressing tight up against hers, and for her to be scenting her like this, Ingrid was impressed Dorothea was able to keep her hands resting only on her hips. A passing thought wished she wouldn’t. But in the comforting arms of Dorothea, she let her aroused thoughts drift towards her forbidden desires.

“Uhm…Felix,” Ingrid said quietly. Dorothea kissed her lightly on her scent gland. Ingrid swallowed a moan.

“Then I got just the thing,” she whispered and dashed to her costume trunk. Ingrid watched as guilt and relief twisted in her core. Guilt for all the obvious reasons on top of knowing Sylvain was in love with Felix; relief for actually having told someone.

She’d once, in a moment of great weakness, kissed Felix. He and his father had been visiting Galatea to observe the crop harvest, just over a year past Glenn’s death. Felix had been kind to her at least. Told her to never try something like that again, and wouldn’t speak of it to a soul. She was eternally thankful for his friendship, but it still shamed her greatly to this day.

“The cut and stitching on these really enhance the breasts—throw this on,” Dorothea said. She tossed her an academy dress shirt, one that looked similar to—

“Why do you have one of Leonie’s shirts?” Ingrid accused. Dorothea rolled her eyes.

“Oh, you sweet alpha, I’m flattered you feel so protective over me. It’s Petra’s actually.”

“I’m not—“ _protective of you._ Except she most definitely was, and Ingrid hated lying. “Why do you have Petra’s shirt?”

“She donated it for the costume closet. It’s clean—don’t worry. Now, add these trousers and this blazer—oh! You’re going to look so dashing!”

She was right. Ingrid did look dashing. The stitching _did_ enhance her breast, but Dorothea paired it with a pale blue dress jacket that was cropped at the waist so that Ingrid didn't feel overly feminine nor masculine in it. It was amazing. Ingrid didn't think that possible. The finishing touch had been a Blaiddyd blue sash tied around her hips-clearly a costume prop from the opera _Kyphon and Loog_ , but it worked and Ingrid liked the touch of home. It must have shown on Ingrid's face how handsome she thought she looked because Dorothea couldn’t help gloating. “See?” Dorothea sung, “What are friends for?”

“Dorothea, you’re more than just a friend, you know. You’re—“ _my girlfriend?_ No, not with this marriage proposal looming over her. _Lover?_ But that didn’t feel right either, they just cuddled and _very_ occasionally kissed. A dark thought crossed Ingrid’s mind. They could kiss…more? Maybe? Something flushed deep below. _I could kiss her now._ _Or anytime I want._

“I know, darling. No need to attach labels to anything—oh!” Ingrid pulled Dorothea in for an embrace, inhaling in her sweet, citrusy scent. She licked her scent gland, relishing in how the omega melted in her arms.

“You’re right, I do feel powerful.”

* * *

“Would you move your ass?” Felix hissed at Sylvain. They were bent over in the grasses at the far end of the courtyard. Pulling each petulant unwieldy plant was bad enough with his sore grip hand without Sylvain’s ass and subsequent scent being in range.

“Why? You hating the view that much? I’ve been told some ladies would pay for such a show. You though? You’re getting free of charge.” He winked and danced his hips side to side.

“Seiros’s Saints, Sylvain! I can smell your heat from here! _Tone it down!”_ He growled, hearing a voice he wasn’t familiar with. Sylvain promptly sat down in the grass, staring at him with his big golden eyes, a look of surprise upon them. “Sorry,” Felix mumbled. Goddess, he was so tired. It was unlike him to use his alpha voice outside of ruts. The training his father had provided him with had, after all, done something for him, he hated to admit.

“Dude,” Sylvain said more seriously. “I’m like, two weeks away from it. There’s _no way_ you can smell me.”

“Maybe you’re early,” Felix mumbled, finding the grass unexpectedly interesting.

“Nuh-uh, I’m like clockwork. Have been since day one.” The back of his neck heated. He really didn’t want to admit he kept track of Sylvain’s cycle, it’d only raise more questions.

“Whatever. Let’s—“ Felix glanced up. Sylvain was still was looking at him with the same big eyes, frozen-like, seated on the ground, knees tucked into his chest. Felix could easily push him to his back if he wanted to. He betted Sylvain wouldn’t resist either, not with the way he was looking at him. Had is alpha voice really commanded him like that? He could test it again. Or he could just crawl over to him. On top of him. Lick his scent gland just to prove he was close to his heat. Maybe he’d even trigger it early.

_Shit._

He swallowed, willing the tightness in his breeches away. _He’s not yours to take._ “—stop staring at me like that,” Felix spat. He watched as Sylvain’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, and turned away from him quickly.

“Hey, you think…actually, we’ve done enough right? Could you take the pile to the greenhouse? I really want to get a bath in before the event tonight, specially if—“ His voice sounded off. Higher pitched? He was speaking faster than normal. He only did that when he was nervous. Had Felix somehow…

“Sure. Fine. Whatever. Just leave.”

Sylvain stood up and dusted off his breeches. “Thanks, man. Owe you one! See you tonight?”

“Absolutely not.” He was going to bed.

“Cool! Later!”

Holding the heavy wooden crate of weeds (made worse by his sore hands), Felix struggled to keep his eyes open, only a vague sense of awareness to the surroundings in front of him. He couldn’t be bothered to find the proper compost pile once inside the vast greenhouse, dropping it with zero care for the integrity of the crate and sat to collect himself for a moment on a bench.

He vaguely awoke a time later to the sound of singing.

> _Oh, how I love to step step step_
> 
> _On that very ledge up so high-_
> 
> _They drink and I drink and I fall fall fall!_
> 
> _Down below to the depths_
> 
> _And the monsters they attack, but then I smash with my hammer!_

“How could you fight if you fell,” he muttered. What a stupid song. Made no sense for her to be up on a ledge only to fall down. You get injured when you fall. Like Sylvain always did. And then there’s monsters? How’d she get a hammer? Nonsensical.

He must know more.

“Ack! Who’s there!”

“Relax, it’s me.” He opened his eyes to lean over to see the songstress on the other side of the plant bed.

“Felix!” Annette said aghast, “Just—ignore what you heard.”

“Impossible. I’ve already heard it.”

“Ah! No, just forget it then! I was never here!”

“Not forgetting it either. How could I? You were about to smash the monsters with a hammer.”

“Oh, erm,” she flustered. Felix loosely smiled. Seeing the omega pout through a tiny dance of her feet was charming. She threw an accusatory finger at him. “What are _you_ doing taking a nap in the greenhouse?”

He shrugged. “Was tired. What happens next? Did you kill them?” He hated that he was this invested, but he _had_ to know. Picturing Annette with a hammer, smashing into monsters wasn’t a image he wasn’t going to rid himself of easily.

“Oh, no you don’t! You’re not going to trick me into singing more—“

“Singing?” He hadn’t thought he needed the information to be sung, but maybe that was part of it’s charm, “Hrmph, yes, sing more.”

“No! Ugh, it’s—it’s time for Dorothea’s opera isn’t it? Hah, we should leave. Aren’t you going?”

“Tch. No.” She made a face of horror. Felix was unfazed.

“But you _have_ to! It’s Dorothea’s birthday!”

“Her birthday was a week ago, and I’m not her friend.”

She rushed up to him and in a hushed voice, “Not just anyone got an invite to the after party, Felix. You _have_ to go. Oh! I know!” Her face changed into an expression Felix had trouble placing. “I’ll sing the next verse for you if you go with me!” He looked at her through squinted eyes. Maybe he was too tired to argue—he did want to hear the next verse, and he could use his tiredness as an excuse to leave right away.

“Fine. Sit.” She skipped and made a small twirl to sit by him, the subtle hint of her scent wafting through the air as she did so.

“Ahem. The hammer goes up up up above and the monsters go boo!—“

“Monsters don’t say 'boo.'”

“Shush. You want to hear it or not?”

He grumbled, but stayed silent. Monsters definitely don’t go boo.

> _The hammer goes up up up above and the monsters go boo!_
> 
> _Teeth so pointy I want to sneeze achoo-y!_

Felix closed his eyes, imaging the monsters with pointy teeth, Annette with her hammer. It was odd, she had a rhyme with boo, but then ruined it. Curious creature, this Annette.

> _Down goes the hammer like a squeaky mouse in the house_
> 
> _The mouse brings out—_

Felix’s head drifted and landed on her shoulder, only dimly aware he’d done so. Faint dustings of her honey scent infected his brain, still focused in on this hammer wielding red-haired blur dancing and swirling around monsters. It was…nice. He vaguely decided he didn't need to move.

Moments later, he was asleep.

* * *

He’d practically sprinted to the omegan bath house. Felix had— _fuck_ _—_ Sylvain wrung his hands while soaking in the bath, desperate to ignore how turned on he was. There wasn’t enough time to take care of himself in this state--he had to calm down. Damn hormones. He closed his eyes, breathing slowly, but without fail seconds later Felix’s amber colored eyes, full of thirst and authority, stared at him and he’d need to start the process all over again. He’d never heard Felix’s alpha voice before. Goddess, it was so sexy. He’d goad around other alphas to get them to use it, but never once had one actually had such an affect on him like Felix’s had. He had nearly laid out for him right then and there—was moments from doing so when Felix chided him for staring.

_But what’s stopping you now?_

Sylvain scrubbed over his scent glands a second time. No fucking way Felix had smelled the heat on him. But, there really wasn’t another explanation was there? _You’re still twelve days off, relax._ Is it possible an alpha like Felix could trigger him early? No, certainly not. If a strong alpha like Dimitri couldn’t have knocked him off his cycle, no way Felix could. And yet… _breathe,_ he reminded himself.

_Dimitri said he’d back off._

He was relieved to hear Felix would be ditching out on the party. It meant he didn’t have to worry about reacting like this again, but it also meant his failed attempt at securing a date felt even more miserable. Dorothea said there’d be musicians, maybe he’d catch a break with one of them.

_Just ask Felix out._

He closed his eyes shut, nearly fully calmed, but this time saw the smiling face of a younger Felix, visages of a sun setting. He scrubbed himself a third time before exiting to dry off and dress.

' ** _You think that runt of an alpha_ _loves_ _you?'_**

 _He’ll just say no,_ he thought with a heavy heart.

* * *

“Oh, Professor! Over here!” Byleth turned to see the cheery green-hair girl waving to her. Seeing Flayn alive and overjoyed to be a part of the Blue Lions brought a warmth to Byleth she originally thought she’d only had for her father. “I saved you a seat Professor. We shall have the most optimal viewing of the performance from here.”

Byleth strode over, nodding at the fifteen-going-on-eighty girl as she took a seat beside her. Byleth did not miss the look Seteth gave her from across the room as she did so. She suspected he'd want to address it tomorrow. Maybe she'd beat him to it and invite him for tea.

“I am overjoyed to be attending a event as a Blue Lion for the first time.” Flayn smiled up at her. "And _not_ sitting with my brother."

“You are a welcome addition, Flayn. I know you will work hard.”

“But of course! I know you would expect nothing less. I shall make you proud, Professor! Just you wait!”

Byleth hummed in approval, watching as the rest of the student body filled in, each of her Blue Lions giving a wave as they entered. Ingrid was wearing…hrm. Should Byleth have dressed up for this occasion? Flayn must have noticed her concern—yet another reason she favored this child. She seemed to be one of the few who could read her with ease.

“You are wondering if you should have dressed up, aren’t you Professor?” She giggled. “Worry not, for although I have donned my formal attire, I assure you there is no one here who would think poorly upon you for your choice of dress. You are always so…practical, Professor. Something I’m sure a certain brother of mine is appreciative of.” Byleth frowned, she hadn’t noticed Flayn was also wearing a different attire. The young girl always dressed in a formal fashion.

She scanned the room for the rest of her class. So far only Ingrid, Dorothea, Ashe, and Mercedes had shown.

“Oh! I see Dedue over there! Should we invite him to sit with us as well, Professor?” Flayn inquired. Byleth nodded, but worried filled her gut. How was Dedue present but not Dimitri? She pondered on the other missing Blue Lions.

Felix not showing was not surprising in the least and she hoped he was in bed sleeping and not at the training grounds again. She had distinctly decided to ignore him falling asleep in lecture early. She made a mental note to discuss his new training regime with him tomorrow.

Sylvain not showing was concerning, but also not entirely surprising. She expected him to show late with another new alpha slug around his arm.

Annette not showing…she stood up suddenly worried Annette had exploded the kitchen again. _What it if was on fire and she was trapped?_

 ** _“What are you doing!?”_** Sothis hissed at her. **_“The show is beginning soon! I am not missing this due to your overbearing concern for these brats. Annette literally blasted three armors soldiers to dust saving Flayn. I’m sure she’s fine.”_**

 _That’s right,_ Byleth throught, sitting back down. _Annette is more than capable. She’d figure out a way. Maybe she simply had tripped on her way here and needed to run back to change._ She did note the need to talk with Annette tomorrow about taking her off the kitchen shift...permanently.

However, Dimitri’s lack of presence unnerved her. There was something deep and unsettled about him that Byleth only saw glimpses of when he fought. After Felix’s astute observation on Jeritza, she’d recently given his accusations towards Dimitri more credence.

Thankfully, Dedue arrived and sat next to her.

“Where’s Dimitri,” Byleth immediately asked.

“His Highness will be arriving shortly with Sylvain. He instructed me to save seats.”

Byleth nodded as thanks and saw Flayn from the corner of her eye lay her legs over the seat next to her. Dedue lifted an eyebrow and then scooted one seat down from Byleth.

 _With Sylvain?_ This information did not bode well for her. She did not like how those two danced around each other. Sylvain with his false aloofness and Dimitri with his intensely directed glares she was certain no one else saw.

**_“He’s clearly possessive over him, do you think we should say something?”_ **

_Perhaps so, especially with Felix—_ A sudden, terrifying thought grazed her consciousness. The two alpha boys fighting outside the Cathedral, with everyone else inside and no one to stop the two from killing each other.

**_“Oh relax, your father is on watch remember? He’s handled more than his fair share of alpha spats.”_ **

Byleth willed herself calmer. Sothis was correct after all (she ignored the gloating feeling in the back of her head at acknowledging as such), but Byleth has also had her fair share of breaking up alpha fights. They were never pretty. One poor chap had lost a finger once. The other had bit it clean off.

She had a feeling in her gut, that if Dimitri actually let go, and released himself to his full alpha rage, Byleth wouldn’t stand a chance. He’d take whatever he want, and there’d be no stopping him. It was a fear that kept her mind preoccupied on the battle field, never wishing to let him roam too far from her. 

**_“Do not dwell on what has not yet occurred.”_ **

Thankfully she didn’t need to because Dimitri entered with Sylvain right as Manuela took the stage to make announcements.

**_“Byleth do you notice—“_ **

_I do._

After the events with Miklan and her long talk with Sylvain, Byleth could easily pick up on his emotions now. Despite a careful, easygoing smile, Sylvain looked pained with Dimitri’s hand on his shoulder, guiding them in. She made a note to speak with him tomorrow. Perhaps he had his own insights about Dimitri that wasn’t just ‘he’s a boar.’

“Ah, Your Highness,” Dedue greeted quietly.

“We saved you seats!” Flayn whispered. Byleth saw the evil glare Manuela sent their direction while she continued to address the audience. She noted to have dinner with her tomorrow.

Sylvain quickly sat beside Flayn, forcing Dimitri to take the open seat between Byleth and Dedue, lest they cause more of a commotion as the performance began. She did not miss the twitch of Dimitri’s face as he departed Sylvain, his eyes going glassy for but a moment. She made a note to speak with—

**_“Just how many people are we speaking with tomorrow!? I thought we were taking the day off! I refuse to allow you to busy yourself so much. Speak with him now.”_ **

_The performance is starting._

**_“You know what I meant!”_ **

Byleth placed a hand on Dimitri’s knee. He jolted his gaze to her, seeing him blink several times until the glassy look was gone.

“P-professor?”

She leaned towards his ear, whispering, “I’d like to speak with you after the performance if that’s okay.”

Dimitri leaned back away from her, a creeping blush growing to his ears. “But of course.” He smiled at her, and Byleth willed the warmth in her gut away, taking her attention now to Dorothea, standing proud upon the stage. ****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! It's a Byleth POV! Didn't see that coming did ya? In case ya'll forgot she's a beta.
> 
> I adore Sothis and I wish she followed you around the Monastery in the game offering all the snippy quips. But that's what fanfic is for!!
> 
> Also, because I'm skipping the opera...  
> -Byleth fails to follow the plot, but enjoys the general tune of the songs. Perks up during the one fight scene, but critiques it under her breath  
> -Sothis, completely enamored with it, chastises Byleth for not paying attention. Demands she take her to more operas in the future.  
> -Flayn "hums" along with the tunes and gasps at every plot turn even though she knows it by heart and as seen it at least 50 times now  
> -Dedue stoically watches, but internally sheds a tear during the one death scene. He'll later say it was extremely moving  
> -Sylvain wonders what the hell Ingrid is wearing, and is annoyed Flayn is signing along but doesn't say anything and is definitely, totally, absolutely not still brooding over Felix  
> -Seteth is sad Flayn chose not to sit by him and is planning on going into town to purchase her candies to win her favor back  
> -Mercedes and Ashe are in the performance! Mercedes plays the supporting part and Ashe is the villain (byleth will later comment on his poor use of swordplay during the performance)  
> -Alois plays the hero, but is mistaken for comedic relief
> 
>  **Next Time:**  
>  The After-Party  
> "Ashe was one silver richer and had a terribly bad feeling in his stomach. A quick look to Petra confirmed he wasn’t the only one who had it. It was fun for a while, but the heated mixing of various pheromones was rising to a level that soon could not be contained."


	14. The After Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Blue Lions arrive to Dorothea's after party not wholly knowing what to expect.
> 
> Dorothea and Yuri help a forlorn Sylvain gain some confidence.
> 
> Ingrid gets bold.
> 
> Felix gets into a fight (and everyone liked that).
> 
> A certain schemer can't stay away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for underage drinking in this one depending on where you live. However, in universe, I have it as if you're doing battle for the church you're allowed to drink, so no one in the story is actively drinking illegally. 
> 
> There is one slight mention from Ingrid about actual, in universe underage drinking however just so ya'll are aware.
> 
> CW for drunkenness, gambling
> 
> \---
> 
> Holy wow this is the longest chapter I've ever written and took literal weeks to write! Here in the US, it is thanksgiving, aka the week of overindulging, so a 10k chapter is only fitting am I right?
> 
> Anyways enjoy some off the beaten path POVs. Let me know your favorite parts!

#  **Chapter 14**

##  **—The After Party—**

**—Academy Phase—Field of the Eagle and Lion—Wyvern Moon—**

“Yurkins, you did an absolute stellar job finding the right musicians,” Dorothea complimented the lilac-haired omega. Lively music was filling the tavern, The Guided Star—a respectable establishment for students of the Officer’s Academy, but not _so_ respectable they couldn't afford to get a little rowdy. Dorothea had used up most of her allowance to rent the place for the evening.

“Mm, yes, the percussionist owed me a certain favor. It was only right to call it in for a lovely songstress’s birthday,” Yuri said melodically, in tune with the music. Dorothea rolled her eyes at his clear natural abilities. Such a shame he’d turned her down in participating in the earlier performance, at least he was helping out now. “Although, the flutist seems to have already sauntered off with that mess of a Gautier omega.”

Ingrid, with an arm around Dorothea’s shoulder and the other holding an almost empty beer mug, corrected him. “ _The_ Gautier omega,” she said haughtily, and then immediately regretted her words, retracting into herself. Dorothea laughed, she wished Ingrid would speak more without thinking sometimes. Certainly had been nice earlier… “Please don’t tell him I said that,” she quickly added.

“There, there, I’m sure he’s aware of it without your reminding,” Yuri said. 

“Do you-” Ingrid detached herself from Dorothea. She instantly missed her. “-Need me to go separate them?” She asked, unsure to whom she was directing it.

“Oh, let him have his fun, whether ill advised or not,” Dorothea said, grabbing Ingrid’s arm to return to her once more, “It’s a party, we should all enjoy ourselves.”

“I agree,” Yuri said with a wicked smile, “Allow me to refill that for you.” He grabbed Ingrid’s empty drink and gave a wink towards Dorothea.

* * *

Mercedes had greatly enjoyed helping out with the performance. How fun it had been to pretend to be someone else for a time! It was a small role, as the heroine’s servant, but Mercedes knows quite well there are no small parts. 

Dorothea was truly kind hearted, wanting to provide the Monastery with a wonderful show. And for her birthday, no less! So many of the children the church cared for were lacking the opportunities to partake in the arts. To give to others instead of wanting a gift yourself on your birthday can be so fulfilling. Mercedes was incredibly pleased Dorothea had joined the Blue Lions. She thinks she’ll make her some cupcakes in the near future.

She was worried for her friend, Annie, who had failed to show, but at the same time Mercedes couldn’t have done anything about it. Poor Annie was always overworking herself and Mercedes hoped she was merely enjoying a good nap somewhere. 

They were now part of the early crowd at The Guided Star, the tavern designated for the after party. Mercedes had been downright giddy to know she’d been invited to an exclusive event. Who knows what kind of mischief they’d get into outside the boundaries of the Monastery. A part of her was hoping to see some of the alphas flaunt their dominance a bit. It was a party after all, shouldn’t some of them be able to let loose a bit? She looked at her fellow tablemates at the tavern. With betas like Petra and Ashe around surely that’d be fine, right?

For now, Mercedes sipped on her glass of wine, while her, Ashe, and Petra exchanged ghost stories. 

“And so she gave the creature her name, ‘You may be calling me Rutina O’Doole,’” Petra said, tone pitched upwards. Mercedes had finished up with her favorite ghost story featuring a young girl haunted by her mother’s vengeful ghost when Petra had cheerfully started with her own. Ashe protested, but stayed put, hands half covering his eyes. A sweet effort that made no sense. There was nothing to be seen, only to be heard. _And besides,_ Mercedes had hummed, _ghosts typically never wallow where they can be seen. “_ **_‘_ ** **Rutina O’Doole, a charming name indeed. Would you like a treat?’** Rutina nodded.” Petra was certainly animated in telling this tale, although it didn’t seem too scary yet. Mercedes listened eagerly while Ashe looked ready to jump into action to save the doomed Rutina...or pass out—not too clear yet. “The creature plucked a fruit from the tree from which Rutina ate with much glee. The creature looked with the sparkling eyes of a predator and stepped outside its circled boundary.”

“Oh my! It couldn’t leave that before, could it?” Mercedes feigned surprise; of course the creature was going to escape. Ashe gulped. How she loved to drive up the drama. 

“No, Rutina had not heard the tales of the fae of the forest. She turned to thank the creature and dropped the fruit with great horror!” She paused to give them time to imagine what horror she may be seeing. Mercedes imagined the fae had turned into a large woodland beast, ready to devour its prey, while Ashe groaned, seemingly turning more pale. She smiled. Petra had an amazing skill for story weaving. She would be inviting her for tea soon. “It was her own face!” Petra reveleved. Ashe gasped. “‘You may be calling me Rutina O’Doole,’ said the creature. **‘No! That is impossible!’** Rutina said, her voice no longer belonging to her. ‘I shall have much fun as Rutina O’Doole. Thank you,’ said the creature skipping away, leaving Rutina trapped inside the circle of mushrooms.” Petra nodded her head, indicating the story complete. 

Mercedes applauded. “That was excellent, Petra! I’ve never heard a tale like that before. Do you have many others like it from your homeland?”

She beamed. “We have lots of warning tales of the fae of the forests.”

“Just great,” Ashe said, slightly depressed. “Yet another reason to be scared of the forest during the night.”

“Oh, the fae of the forests are known for dancing during the daytime too, Ashe.” He took a long drink. “Worry not! I shall share with you all my expertise on the fae. If you were ever to encounter one, you would be able to talk your way out safely like a true Brigidan!” He seemed to perk up from that. Mercedes wondered for a moment if he fancied her.

“Hey, is that Felix?” Ashe said, looking behind Mercedes. “Is he…with a date?” Mercedes turned around, delighted to see Annie next to Felix. He even had a hand on her shoulder! 

“Oh Annie!” Her heart lifted.

“I am having confusion,” Petra pouted. “I was unaware Felix is courting an omega.” Mercedes shushed her. Annie had been pining after him since they arrived at the academy, and the two had been plotting ways to get him to notice her for ages now. What a peculiar alpha Felix was. On the surface, Mercedes thought most would take him to be a beta, but any who saw how protectively he fought could tell he was an alpha—a strong one too. Although (and she allowed herself the daydream, it was a party after all, and she could ask the Goddess for forgiveness later), Dimitri was certainly stronger. A dangerous alpha, to be sure—she was so thankful Sylvain had been okay after that interaction she’d witnessed—but Mercedes liked a serving of danger with her daily life. Ghost stories were just the tip of the iceberg.

She pulled herself from her own fantasies, happy to see her friend with her crush.

“Mercie! So sorry we’re late!” She walked over. Felix…remained standing awkwardly in the entryway. _Oh, no,_ she thought, _He looks quite tired. Is he ill?_ “We, uhm, kind of fell asleep in the greenhouse.” Mercedes cocked an eyebrow. They didn’t…

“Is that a Fodlan way of saying you two were—“

“Oh my goodness! No! We actually did, I promise, it was just a nap! We’re here now!” Mercedes hid a chuckle behind a hand, for Annette was blushing a deep red.

* * *

“HEY! Let’s get a round of poker going! Where’s the cards!?”

Ingrid stared daggers at the impossibly loud teal-haired guy across the room. Dorothea rubbed her shoulder. “Don’t mind Caspar, he’s always that loud.” Ingrid was nursing a second mug of beer. She might have consumed the first a little too fast, eager to rid herself of nerves and…pent up desires. Being close to Dorothea seemed to calm her though, but she just also wanted to kind of suck her face off—whoops, time for another drink. 

She finished with a satisfying sigh, “I still kind of want to punch his face though.”

“Later, darling.”

“That a promise?”

“Can I punch him too?” Felix said. Wait, Felix!? He’d actually shown up? Damn. She’d lost a bet with Dorothea, and judging by the poking in her side, she hadn’t forgotten it either. 

“Hey, Caspar! My lovely new classmates want to punch you!” Dorothea shouted across the room.

“Heck yeah! Let ‘em try! But later! Lin says he’s going to beat me at poker first!” Dorothea turned back to them with a smug, _there,_ look. 

“That’s erm,” Felix said, looking at Ingrid. “A look. It’s nice. Suits you, I guess. The blue, erm…” Ingrid blushed.

“Sash,” Dorothea interjected, digging a nail into Ingrid’s back, teasing her because she’d been right. “I thought a touch of that Faerghus blue would suit her, I’m glad you agree.”

“A drink for the handsome man?” Yuri said, stepping into their social circle, presenting one to Felix. He glared at it as if it was poison, sending Ingrid into giggles. Yuri was so harmless.

“Who is this?” He spat at Dorothea.

“Oh, Yurikins, don’t you dare flirt with this one, he’s stubborn and completely not worth it.”

“Like that hasn’t stopped me before.” He winked, and he and Dorothea laughed, sharing some inside joke she wasn’t privy to. Feeling left out, Ingrid looked to Felix who was— _oh my gosh—_ blushing? And looking panicked enough about it to want to hide it by smashing down the drink Yuri had offered. 

“Whoa, there, slow down lightweight. Can’t say I enjoy an easy date,” Yuri cautioned. 

Felix glared at him. “I can handle it.” Yuri looked doubtful.

“No, really,” Ingrid said, “He can. You know who can’t though? His Royal Highness.” Oops. She shouldn’t have said that.

“ _Really?”_ Yuri said, utterly fascinated. “Tell me more.” Ingrid shook her head, filling her mouth with more drink, not wishing to recount the time she and Felix had to drag him to bed and keep watch. Judging by the glare Felix was giving her, he didn’t want to either.

“Where is Dima anyways?” Dorothea asked, rising on her tiptoes to see around the tavern.

“ _Dima?_ Are kidding me?” Felix said, choking on his drink.

“Oh what, Fe? Don’t like my nicknames?”

“I’m leaving.” Ingrid knew he was joking. Felix was grumpy, but if he wanted to leave he’d just leave and not announce it.

“Oh come on, Felix!” Ingrid chided, leaving Dorothea’s side to put an arm around him. _Goddess, he smells great. How did Dorothea put it again? ‘Alpha funk?’_ She squeezed to hold him in place. “‘Sides, if you leave, I’ll just tell embarrassing stories about you.” Dorothea looked on them approvingly and with much lust—no, surely that was the alcohol, Ingrid just wanted to see that. They smiled dorkily at each other.

“I’ve done nothing of the sort,” Felix chided, pulling her attention back.

“Oh? How about the time you climbed the great oak tree at Galatea and was too scared to climb down?”

“Tch, I’m not an idiot. I was going to break my leg.”

“Mhm, and how you were begging for His Royal Highness, and _only_ His Royal Highness, to come save you? You climbed that tree on purpose just so he would.” She poked him in the gut.

“Hey!” He squirmed, “He got stuck up there too!”

“Yeah, and I had to save you _both!”_ Dorothea laughed with glee and Yuri snickered while Ingrid and Felix fought against each other. Eventually Ingrid got him into a headlock. 

“Do tell, where was that charming red-headed friend of yours for this?” Yuri asked. Felix twisted out of Ingrid’s grip with extreme ease and stalked away. Ingrid sighed, maybe bringing up childhood memories had been too much for him.

“Oh, this was during his first presentation as omega.”

“Hrmph,” Yuri said, leaning against the bar to watch Felix walk off. “How tight can that man’s knot be for him to be so wound up?”

“Oh, impossibly tight,” Dorothea agreed.

“Never seen an alpha so in need of a good hole.”

“The _fuck?”_ Ingrid said, exasperated. 

“Oh, darling! I don’t think I’ve _ever_ heard you swear before!” Her smile was wicked in approval.

At the same time, Yuri said, “That _is_ what I’m suggesting.”

“Can we _not_ talk about this?” Yuri rolled his eyes, but procured more drinks from the bar.

“So on a scale of one to ten, how offended should I be that the Prince of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus failed to show to my party?” Dorothea said, gracefully changing the topic.

“Be as offended as you want, Queen Berthes,” Yuri teased and bowed, calling her the character she’d played. He handed her a drink.

“I’m sure he has an excellent reason,” Ingrid consoled. 

“Oh yes,” Yuri teased. “He seemed quite eager to follow that Professor of yours post-performance.” 

* * *

“YAHTZEE!” Caspar shouted. Ugh, the room was loud enough with the people and music without that fool shouting. Felix thought he could hear his companion say something like ‘that’s not how it works,’ before Caspar shouted again, “But I have all black! That’s a suite, right?”

“Felix,” Petra appeared beside him, “I was unaware you and Annie were courting—“ He spat out his drink.

“Wh—at?”

“—As your beta guardian I should be aware of these things.”

“We’re not! Who told you this?” 

“Oh, uhm, no one. I had assumed when the two of you entered together. Should I have not?”

“We arrived at a party together. That’s all.” Petra cocked her head at him. “What?”

“You are—hrm—your scents have branched together.” 

He rolled his eyes. “It’s nothing. I accidentally fell asleep on her shoulder. Stop fretting.”

“I…have understanding, thank you. You will be dancing then?”

“What? No.”

“But you are in the center of the dance floor,” she said, smiling gleefully. He looked around, a few others were standing and moving to the beat. “Here, I can be teaching you a traditional dance of Brigid.” She immediately sprung into step, weaving around in an intricate pattern. Felix sat down his drink to observe more carefully. It was similar to fencing in its footwork, but would turn and twist in unexpected ways. Was this why Petra was so quick and light on her feet? “Oho, has my charm captured your attention?”

“That step, do it again.”

“Oh! Petra! Are you teaching a dance!?” Ashe called out.

“I want to learn too!” Annette chimed.

* * *

“You sure you don’t want to take this elsewhere?” The ginger smelling alpha whispered into his ear.

“I’m sure, babe, there’ll be plenty of time afterwards.” Sylvain had charmed one of the musicians quickly upon entering The Guided Star tavern. They’d been making out and grinding on each other in a back room for some time now, but he’d grown disinterested in her almost immediately. She sucked on his scent gland, careful moans leaving his mouth. It was still a nice way to forget about Felix though.

“You’re going to make me come in my pants,” she teased, rocking harder against him. 

He pulled back. “Now, now, we wouldn’t want that would we? I promised I’d watch you perform. Can’t do that if you need to go home and change.”

“Aw, sweetie, I want to be giving you an entirely different performance.” She pulled him back, changing their positions around to pin him against the wall instead, grinding her hardened cock against his thigh. Sylvain sighed as she kissed along his collarbones, trying to figure out a way out of this. 

“Can’t an omega just want some nice making out without sex for once? You kiss so good.” He pulled her in for another kiss. It was a complete lie, her kissing had completely bored him by now. She pulled back to look up at him, eyes soft green, long blonde hair framing her face. If it was any other day, she’d have been a great lay, but today just had to have been the day he'd heard Felix’s alpha voice. He shuddered just thinking about it again while she lapped at his neck. Mentally, he was back in the grassy courtyard with Felix—damned Felix—who had somehow made this _super hot_ alpha babe a boring experience.

He hadn’t even said anything nice!

‘ _Tone it down!’_

He moaned louder just hearing it in his mind.

“How about you make out with my dick, beautiful?” Wow. Okay. She was coming on to him _way_ too strong. He pushed her back. Sure he was horny before, but now she was reminding him of Dimitri on top of it all. _Too many strikes, sweetheart._

“Yeah, okay. We’re done.” He walked away, but she grabbed his wrist.

“Excuse me!? Nah, uh. _Get back here._ ” He huffed, almost embarrassed for her poor excuse of an alpha voice.

“Yeah, that ain’t going to work, babe.” _Not unless you’re Felix, apparently._ “Real sorry, though, had a ton of fun letting you, erm,” he wiped his wet neck, “lick my neck and everything. I’m going back to the party. I think the birthday star is here.” He twisted out of her grip easily and headed through the kitchen to enter what was now a far more lively party, not bothering to look back as she scoffed.

There were more people now, half of which he recognized. The tavern had filled out nicely. Dorothea was with that purple-haired omega he’d encountered that one evening, the two hanging out at the bar, shooting a glance at Sylvain while whispering to one another. A short, teal-haired guy and a tall, lanky green-haired dude were playing cards with Mercedes. Everyone else was on the dance floor including—his stomach dropped. Felix? _That bastard! He said he wasn’t coming! Fuck! What do I do?_

He stared, dumbfounded. He was standing behind Annette, both facing the same direction, with her hands in his, arms outspread, performing a series of complicated steps. A trot this way, then back, weaving around each other front to back. He watched as Annette looked up at him, a gorgeous smile on her face. Even a blind man could tell her omega ass was pleased as Serios’s tits to be next to Felix. Sylvain lost it when Felix smirked back, storming to the bar to down a shot of spirits. Maybe more. 

_Fucking—ahh, I can’t call her a bitch. Annette is like the nicest person ever. Gah, and I’m such a shitty one._ He downed the first shot, hoping the burn would smother his jealousy. Sylvain prefers not to see himself as a jealous person. It had been something he’d worked extremely hard at seeing as how jealousy was practically a genetic fact for him. _Goddess, he was holding her so close. Shit, what if he was trying to scent her?_ An image of Annette rubbing herself— _honey and linen,_ he recalled her omega scent—all across Felix’s body. An urge to turn around and see if it was true burned into him. Instead he ordered a second shot—let that burn him instead.

“Jules not as satisfying as you’d like, I take it, Gautier?” The purple-haired omega said, sliding up to the barstool next to him.

“Huh?”

“The flutist.”

“Oh. No.” He downed a second shot.

“Going quite hard there, friend. Not that I’m here to judge.”

“Can’t call yourself my friend if I don’t know your name.”

“Yuri Leclerc, pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“Leclerc,” Sylvain racked his mind if he knew him already. Something felt familiar about it, but he couldn’t place it. 

“I’m guessing the woes in which you wish to drown in are not with the musical maiden whose name you didn’t bother to learn?”

“Why do you care. It’s a party, shouldn’t you be dancing or something?”

“Oh, Sylvie.” Dorothea stalked over to join, hugging him around the shoulders. “It’s my party, and everyone can do whatever they please.”

“Superb. Two more please,” he told the bartender. If he couldn’t leave without Dorothea noticing, he’d need more to deal with the sight of Felix handling another omega literally less than ten feet behind him. This shouldn’t be bothering him so much. He had literally set Felix up on dates before. _Yeah, but he was never interested in them. He’s interested in Annette._ _Of course he’d go for someone as cool as Annette, who smells sweet and absolutely nothing like my stupid scent._

Too many alphas had reassured him they liked his scent, reassured him so hard and through various methods that Sylvain knew they were lying. It was just another flavor of the same language used when being convinced his Crest didn’t matter. Of course it did. Omegas were supposed to be sweetly scented; he reeked, and he knew it.

“Hrm, let me guess,” Dorothea said in a tone already knowing she was right, “You’re stressing over something that starts with ‘Fe’ and ends with,” she got close to his ear and licked the air, breathily saying “‘licks.’” He shoved her back, a smile on her face.

“That man certainly is a quick study,” Yuri said to the dance floor behind him. Sylvain couldn’t help turning his attention. Felix was now partnered with Petra, holding her hips close against his—closer than any sensible dance would have—performing similar steps he’d done with Annette, but dialed up in difficulty and skill. It was beyond clear they partnered well together, likely from all the time they spent sparring each other. Something he definitely was _not_ insanely jealous of and wasn’t currently promising himself to get to the training grounds more often over his fourth shot. Yuri raised an eyebrow as he did so. “Definitely worthy of four shots worth of woes.” Sylvain glared at them both.

“I’m not pining over Felix.”

“Oh, ha, ha!” Dorothea belly laughed at him. “You are _so_ past the pining stage, you sweet thing.” She petted his hair.

“How the fuck would you know?”

“I’m surprised your whole class doesn’t know,” Yuri said. “One look at you staring aghast at him on the dance floor did it. You Faerghans, all that cold weather and snow you deal with certainly made you thick not only in skin.” Sylvain leaned into Dorothea’s hand on his head, at least she was being nice to him.

“Please don’t tell anyone. ‘pecially not Mitya.” 

“Of course not, dear, but take it from me, it is better to have loved and be loved than have never loved at all.”

“‘Snnt that from an opera?”

“A play, but we needn’t get into the specifics.”

“The point is, Gautier,” Yuri interjected. “Why not go dance with him yourself?”

“I’d just step on his toes. He’d hate that. There’s already so many things he hates that I do—“

“I assure you Annette did plenty of stepping on toes already,” Yuri said.

“—I sleep in too much, I don’t study, I go out with girls too much—“

“Sylvie, to put it more bluntly, I think Yuri meant why haven’t you, you know, asked him out?” He stared at her. _Ask him out? Like one of his alpha cuties? Was she out of her mind?_

* * *

Dorothea exchanged a glance with Yuri. This was going to be a tougher nut to crack than they’d originally thought. Sylvain seemed hell-bent on destroying his self-worth so much he’d convinced himself Felix wouldn’t take a single pass at him. Of course Felix would. After seeing him storm off quickly to find Sylvain, barely out of his rut gave her suspicions. Seeing him practically _carry_ Sylvain home, the poor man a mess of tears after they’d killed his brother, refusing to allow anyone else to help confirmed to her Felix definitely also had a thing for Sylvain. 

They liked each other. Now all they needed was a _little_ push.

She had promised Ingrid she wouldn’t tell Sylvain about Petra, but she hadn’t said anything about not meddling. Maybe a gentle lie about Felix would work? Something about how she caught him staring at him the other day or something, anything to boost him enough to get the courage and dance with him.

“Sylvie, I think—“

The doors to The Guided Star kicked open, and three figures walked in. 

“Never fear! The deer are here!” Claude rang out, arms outstretched. Dorothea groaned, rolling her eyes. She had very purposely _not_ invited Claude, or any of the Golden Deer for that matter, and now there they were. It was so like him to just show up anyway. She left Yuri to the depressed Sylvain, storming over to the party crashers.

“Thought that was the opposite of your saying. ‘Fear the Deer?’” She said crossly. 

“Such an astute lady.” He took her hand, bowing as he kissed it, “The happiest of birthday wishes to you, songstress.”

“Leonie!” Caspar shouted, disregarding the cards on the table. “Arm wrestle!”

“You’re so on!” The red-haired girl—alpha, from what Dorothea’s nose could tell—shouted back just as loud. She rolled up a sleeve, leaving Claude and Hilda with Dorothea. 

“Oo! There’s dancing already!? Claude, I take back what I said earlier. This was _so_ worth the trek,” Hilda said, skipping to join Petra and the others. 

Claude lifted his hands in a fake apology. “What can I say. Leading a house when you’re the only omega around has its difficulties. Such as, no one listens to you when you say you want to go out to town by yourself for a couple of hours. Very demanding, those alphas.” Dorothea didn’t believe him for a second. He probably had asked the whole house to tag along. They wrote whole operas on the cunning fierceness omega leaders were required to have to get by in the world—they’d been some of Dorothea’s favorite roles—and Claude was no exception. She was sure no one in his house did anything without a purpose by his manipulative words.

“I’ve already told you, Claude, I’m not dishing out any information to you regarding Edie. I’m putting my foot down.”

“Whoa, whoa. Relax. I promise I’m just here ‘cause I can’t resist anything _remotely_ secret in nature.” Dorothea huffed. _Ain’t that the truth._ “Besides, you seem to be no longer needing my services anyways. Can’t say I’m not envious. Wish I had your luck in those regards.”

“Thought you were the only omega in your house. Should be easy pickings, house leader and all,” she said coldly. Her love life was worthy of at least fifteen operas. All tragedies. How dare he insinuate she’d had it lucky.

“One would think. Say, I just thought of a new way you could repay me.” She rolled her eyes. _Of course he did._ “Since you’re all buddy-buddy with that soon to be knight of yours, I thought you could get some sort of word to her liege.”

“Sure, Claude. What do you need,” she said, not hiding an ounce of annoyance in her voice.

“Ah, I knew a songstress like you would know my favorite tune,” he winked. Dorothea wanted to vomit. “I’d like to have tea with him, his choice of timing, but it must be private. And discreet.” She raised an eyebrow at him.

“Claude you wouldn’t happen to—“

“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” he said loudly. “There’s a ‘delicate flower’ of brute that’s calling my name.”

“Claude! You so did not just call me a ‘brute!’” Hilda cried from nearby. She watched him walk over calmly, taking Hilda’s hand to join in on the dancing. 

_Huh. So Claude has a crush on Dimitri? Now that’s something I don’t mind stirring around._

* * *

“Hah!” Leonie slammed Caspar’s fist down on the table, “That makes three! I win!” Felix, out of breath from the rapid pace Petra had been setting, took a break from the footwork practice to watch the last match and finish his pint. He was aware Sylvain had somehow shown up at the bar, and Caspar was far from it in the corner of the room, making it an easy choice to meander to. Plus the arm wrestling was more his pace since the type of dancing had changed with the arrival of the Golden Deer.

“Oh, come on! I almost had you! I demand a rematch!”

“You’re just a sore loser. I won. Fair and square.”

“You lost,” Felix said. “No need to be a sore loser.” Caspar was always like this. It was why he typically refused to spar with him. The point of sparring wasn’t always to win. It was to learn.

“Refill?” He turned, surprised to see Yuri with a round of beers. 

“Oh, excellent. You speak my language!” Leonie cheered. Felix took one with suspicion, drinking it only because he’d been parched. He was still tired, and, evidently unlike Ingrid, wasn’t planning on getting drunk…but maybe he could handle a light buzz.

“You arm wrestling?” He twirled around to see Ingrid. Had he summoned her? How were all these people sneaking up on him?

“Hell yeah!” Caspar said, or rather shouted. 

“Count me in,” she said, straddling the chair across from him. She got him easily in the first round, but even Felix could see it was because Caspar had underestimated her. He wondered how many bandits had already died because they’d done the exact same thing. He downed more of his pint, feeling the light buzz take effect. The next two rounds Caspar took, not holding back. The final round, Felix had had enough alcohol to feel playful—get back at her for telling that obnoxious story of when Sylvain had been gone and Glenn was hogging all of his friends’ attention. So what if he had climbed a tree just because he’d been lonely. He’d been, like, nine at the time. He scooted closer to Caspar, view clearly going out towards the rest of the tavern. 

He sniffed, the way an alpha does when searching for an omega. “Is Leonie really dancing with Dorothea?”

“ _What!?_ ” Ingrid turned her attention away.

Leonie glared at him from chatting with Yuri. “Hey! I’m right here, you know.” But it was enough for Caspar to take the victory. He stood up, shouting and tore his shirt off, alpha energy feeding into the room, making most (all except Yuri, it seemed) stop whatever they were doing to turn and notice. Felix tried to hide his snickering, shoving his face into his nearly empty pint.

“I’m not sewing your shirt for a third time this month.” Felix jolted, looking over past Caspar to see a sleeping man, nearly blended into the booth. Except he wasn’t asleep because he was talking. He looked around him, worried more people were somehow hiding beside him.

“Felix, that was dirty. I could have gotten him,” Ingrid scolded him.

“That was for the oak tree,” he responded coolly. She stuck her tongue out at him. He reciprocated. Because apparently they were five again.

“Come on, Felix. You’re next!” Caspar said, still shirtless. He rolled his eyes, but took Ingrid’s seat. 

“Do I need to take off my shirt as well?” He teased.

“Absolutely, them’s the rules.”

He scoffed, “I was joking. You’re making that up.”

“Nuh, uh! I just didn’t make them do it cause they’re girls.”

“Hey! I’m _right_ here,” Leonie said angrily. “You saying you went easy on me?” She puffed up her chest, getting in Caspar’s space, but to his credit, he seemed unfazed. The levels of alpha energy she was blasting off were near intoxicating. It took him a moment to realize it was likely in response to Caspar displaying himself. He sniffed, their scents accosting him, something primal twitching inside his mind. A need to dominate. He growled, drawing their attention, the three baring teeth at each other, before Caspar laughed, breaking the tension. Seems he wasn’t immune either.

“It’s my turn, Leonie,” he said curtly. “And fine. I’ll play by your rules. But I’m punching you if you lose.”

* * *

“You just have to go! Give in! Fall head first into love!” Dorothea had returned from…wherever she’d gone off to, and continued to try and convince him why he should go over to Felix and tell him how he really feels. Yuri had given up after he’d pestered him about that parchment-smelling alpha he’d scented on him. “The worst that can happen is you fall and even then you just, get right back up again!”

He furled his eyebrows, “That’s what you do with horses. Felix…not a horse.” His speech was starting to slur a touch, which meant it was probably slurring a lot, and he just couldn’t tell.

“Sweetie, I know that. But you can’t keep allowing yourself to be so miserable all the time!”

“I’m not miserable! I’m the happiest guy around!” He put on his mask, not conscious it had come off, and smiled. “See?”

“Sylvain—“

“Hey, why’d everyone stop dancing?” They looked out to the floor, seeing a crowd had gathered toward the corner. Ingrid, on the other hand, was marching towards Dorothea.

“Darling, what’s going on? Did you finally punch Caspar?” Ingrid stopped dead in her tracks.

“Ah! I forgot about that! No, he just beat me at arm wrestling cause Felix is a dirty cheat. Caspar ripped off his shirt in victory or some stupid alpha macho bullshit. I should go back and punch Felix though.”

“Ingrid!” Sylvain scolded, cause he couldn’t not sling her shit back at him, “Language, young lady!”

“If I had a drink right now, it’d be on your face.” Okay, now he was actually happy. Ingrid was so cute when she was mad. 

“Thanks, Ingrid,” he smiled.

“For what? Spilling an imaginary drink on you?”

“I didn’t mean to say that out loud…Hey, I wanna go watch.” He stumbled out of his seat towards the crowd, placing his hand against two people to steady himself. He sniffed and looked down to see he’d stabilized himself against Annette, who smelled a lot like Felix. Too much like Felix. And then there was a whole lot more of Felix’s burning scent in the air. He turned to see him and choked. He was taking off his shirt!?

“Come on, Felix! You got this!” Claude’s voice rang.

“No way! Caspar, you better win this! I got money on you!” Hilda said. 

“You’re betting?” Ashe’s voice added in. “Mark me down a silver on Felix! Let’s go, Chevallier!” More cheers emitted from the crowd and Sylvain had trouble staying on two feet, watching the two alphas arm wrestle. 

“This how all commoner parties are?” He said, thinking Dorothea was still nearby. She grabbed his hips, steadying him. _Hey! Look at that! She’s still here! Must be true love or whatever she said._

“Oh, this is just the beginning, Sylvie, just you wait.” He leaned back into her for support, watching Felix’s broad back muscles ripple and strain as he quickly dispatched of Caspar. One, two, three easy rounds. How is he this sexy? “Careful, Sylvie, you’re drooling.” He wiped his face, although there was no liquid to be cleaned, and he glared at her while she laughed. 

“Come back to me when you’re actually a challenge,” Felix spat, but still shook his hand. What a gentleman. “My prize?”

“Oh right!” Caspar said, completely undismayed by his loss. He stood, the crowd shifting back. Caspar squatted, slapping his cheek lightly and lifting it, bracing for the impact. Everyone watched as Felix took a strong stance, fingers curling into a fist, and clocked him square in the face, a bit of blood leaping to the ground. The crowd reacted in waves, first in a gasp, then in cheers. Felix smiled, he hated being the center of attention, but punching Caspar had seemed worth it enough for him. Sylvain swooned and desired to present himself for him right there in the center of the floor. He bit his lip and squeezed Dorothea's arms harder to stop himself.

Felix turned, and their eyes met, a sudden rush of warmth pooling down below, an involuntary whimper leaving Sylvain as he watched Felix turn away to lick up the blood from his knuckles and grab his shirt. He stalked over to a booth to be alone while Leonie demanded a rematch with Caspar, the crowd clearly eager for more.

“Hey, Dorothea, hey, hey, Dorothea. Hey. Dor, I think, I think you’re right. I’m gonna…gonna…f-fall…yeah.” He could feel the slick between his cheeks already, trusting there to be enough scents in the air to not care about it. He patted Dorothea without looking back, feet carrying him towards Felix.

* * *

“Uhm, Ingrid? Darling?” It had taken her a moment to find her amongst the crowd watching Leonie actually wrestling Caspar now, and even longer to pull her away.

“What is it?”

“Uhm, it’s just. I may have, uhm…”

“Dorothea, out with it.”

“Right. I _may_ have messed up a bit.” Ingrid grabbed her, wrapping her up in her arms.

“How could you have messed anything up? You’re so perfect, Dorothea.” She nuzzled into her neck, and oh. Oh, she felt so, so good. 

“Oh, Darling, you’re so good to me. It’s just—Oh-h.” Ingrid licked at her scent gland, her knees going weak, Ingrid catching her by the ass and holding her up. “Mm, you know, I’m sure they’re fine.”

* * *

Ashe was one silver richer and had a terribly bad feeling in his stomach. A quick look to Petra confirmed he wasn’t the only one who had it. It was fun for a while, but the heated mixing of various pheromones was rising to a level that soon could not be contained. 

He scanned the room, taking in all possible scenarios he might have to dissolve: Caspar and Leonie were now in an active fist fight; Ingrid was in the corner making out with Dorothea; Claude looked like he was in that omega daze that could only mean one thing; Hilda was eyeing Claude with a concerning great interest; Annette and Mercedes were clutching each other, watching the fight with great fervor. Even Lindhart had his eyes open and locked on Caspar. _Wait._ He was missing some people—he couldn’t see Sylvain or Felix past the crowd.

_Balls._

Were he and Petra the only betas here? _Shit._ He wished hard for Dedue at a time like this, alphas so easily accepted his threats, unlike Ashe's. He knew Petra was fierce on the battlefield, but was uncertain of her abilities when it came to alpha wrangling. He wondered vaguely about how Brigid handled secondary sexes, but shook his head. He needed to focus and act quick. _Shit. Fuck._ It was unwise of Dorothea to have planned a party with so many alphas and omegas and so few betas. 

Leonie growled loudly, full alpha voice in command, “ _Stay down, you punk!”_

_Shit. Fuck. Balls. Not again._

The musicians were already taking their cue to cut out. _Smart, good. Get out of here while you can._ He twirled around to see Yuri in conversation with the barkeep, who was looking very antsy. _An omega barkeep? Seriously?_ Ashe tried not to judge, but— _Wait a second._ Yuri didn’t seem to be all too affected by the soon to be overwhelming outpouring of pheromones. He quickly shared a knowing nod with Petra, hoping she’d also been dividing tasks in her mind, and moved to Yuri, chip on his shoulder.

“How come you didn’t tell me you were mated?” He said, failing to disguise his hurt with concern over the developing situation. They’d been friends, or something like that, for years now. And after everything they went through in the Abyss? How is it Ashe was just now noticing? 

Yuri, for all his worth, actually looked surprised and didn’t look to be faking it either. He collected himself quickly, placing an elbow on the bar, giving the barkeep a knowing nod before resting his chin on a fist. The barkeep left after receiving the signal. _Good, one less to worry about._

“I forget how perceptive you are sometimes. Life on the street never leaves us, does it?”

“You going to help with this or what?”

“And ruin a perfectly good party? Never.” Yuri rolled his eyes, moving to the crowd. For a split second, he thought he was going to somehow make things worse, but then Ashe saw him place a hand on Annette and Mercedes and watched as he guided them away from the brawling alphas. 

Petra took that as her cue to break up the fight, and Ashe visibly relaxed. The last time he had to break up an alpha fight it hadn’t exactly gone well for him. He had a scar on his right calf that still to this day refused to fade. It’d been a number of years ago, and while he was certainly stronger now, he was still better at avoiding getting hit than dishing out the hits. Petra was definitely better in both regards. He turned his attention elsewhere.

He kind of figured Ingrid and Dorothea were an item before this, so he left those two alone and made his way for what he thought was the biggest concern: Claude.

Hilda was leaning into his shoulder, a hand petting his hair. Normally Ashe struggled to put power behind his voice, always uncertain if he’d offend anyone. Times like these forced him to summon every bit of authority he had—he hated doing it, but it kept people safe, and he’d need to use it more if he were to become a knight.

“Claude, I think it’s time you get home. I can take you.”

“The concern is sweet, Ashe, but I’m fine,” Claude said with an amazing amount of lucidity considering… _wait, something’s off about him._

“Erm, are you sure, ‘cause—“ Ashe knew the look of an omega entering heat, even if he didn’t smell like it. _That’s so weird,_ he thought, but chalked it up to the mixed room. 

“I know how I look, Ashe, you needn’t worry. Hil here is keeping me calm and happy and will definitely slice off the head of any alphas who approach.” Hilda preened. “Aw man, Petra really breaking things up? I had a gold on Leonie.”

“Bullshit, Caspar would have totally won,” Hilda said lazily, nuzzling into his neck, an arm around his waist possessively.

“Don’t let her hear you say that,” Claude warned. Ashe can hear Leonie scuffling with Petra, and he thought he heard Petra swear, but didn’t recognize the language.

“Tch, I can take her.” 

He booped her on the nose. “I don’t doubt it for a second.” Ashe did. Maybe not so much if the two had weapons, but fist to fist? No one knew how to brawl better than commoners.

“Okay!” Ashe, clapped his hands loudly, refocusing them. He really hoped Hilda wouldn’t get into a fight with Leonie now. He was pretty sure Leonie would fight anyone who breathed in her general direction in her current state. “Claude, looks like you trust Hilda. Go home, yeah? Party’s ending.”

“Ugh, whatever, party’s lame anyways,” Hilda said, but thankfully made to move Claude along.

“Lame? You were just saying how thankful you were I invited you. For shame, Hils. See if I invite you anywhere again.” 

“Ugh! The party’s ending ‘cause of your stupid idea, you know. Just look at Leonie! She’s way too close!”

“What are you talking about? Claude, what’d you do?” Ashe said, but before Claude could respond, Ashe heard his name being called.

“Ashe?” Petra shouted, strained. “Assistance please!” He turned to see her struggling to pull Sylvain off from Felix. It took his brain two full seconds to process why this was so strange. For starters, he expected to see her wrangling with Leonie, not Sylvain, and definitely not an omega. Then there was the fact that Felix was sitting still, a murderous look being directed not at Petra for taking away an omega, but Sylvain, the omega himself. Since when do omegas need pulling off alphas? Sylvain twisted free from her arms, lunging towards Felix who now was set to kill. “Ashe!?”

* * *

Felix lapped at the blood on his knuckles, tasting both his own and Caspar’s, allowing himself to preen from the victory in relative solitude, and thankful his alpha pheromones were emulating a general ‘fuck off’ on top of his normal ‘fuck off’ attitude. He no longer felt tired, but the smarter version of himself located way, way in the back of his mind told him it was probably time to leave. 

Instinct kept his ass firmly in place. This felt like a fucking fantastic place to be.

He wished he had another pint. _Where’s that guy? Yurikins? No, that’s Dorothea’s stupid nickname for him_. He couldn’t remember his actual name. He just showed up with drinks. Felix just won. He should have a drink. He scowled, sitting upright to scan the crowd for him while he put on and buttoned up his dress shirt, no longer worried he’d stain it with blood.

“Hey, Ffffffelixs.” His head jerked towards the noise. _Indech’s fucking bollocks, how is everyone sneaking up on me tonight!?_ He’s never drinking again.

Sylvain stood, or rather swayed, before him.

“You’re drunk.”

“Yesss.”

Felix continued to button up his shirt. He waited for Sylvain to say more--he was bound to say more, he always loved running that gorgeous plump mouth of his, but when he didn’t, Felix felt the need to fill the space. “You need me to take you home or something?” 

Somewhere, a smarter Felix was screaming at him.

“Mmmmm….Nooo? Yeah…No. Here’s good,” Sylvain said, confusing Felix. He moved and sat next to him on the long wall bench. Felix stiffened from the whoosh of displaced air, Sylvain falling into place, the clear, snowy dew scent of Sylvain rushing his senses. It wasn’t the powerful scent of a heat, but it was damn close to one. 

“Syl-Sylvain,” Felix strained, focusing his efforts on keeping his vision away from the omega. “Get away from me, okay? Go home. Ask Petra to take you or-or something.”

“You danced wiff Petra…you didn’t dance wiff me…” He could feel the hot heat of his breath against his shoulder. Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried to remember the tasks the trainers had given him. ‘ _Picture the waves of the ocean.’_

“You weren’t there.” The blue waves crashed against the rocky formations of the northern Faerghus coasts, melting into white foam.

“I’m here now.” Felix swallowed, feeling Sylvain rest his chin on his shoulder. The ocean waves dispersed completely, so he opened his eyes to focus on something more tangible. Like counting the grains in the wood of the table in front of him. ‘ _Focus on facts, not feelings.’_

“You’re drunk. You’re near your heat. Get off of me.”

“You smell wrong, though,” he whined into his ear, the smell of alcohol apparent, “You ssshud smell like me, not her.”

Felix swallowed. He did smell like Annette, didn’t he? She’d been nice to be around, although the dancing his toes would disagree. Felix hadn’t realized what a soothing effect it could have on him to have an omega’s scent on him, and Annette’s had been fine enough at the time, even if it’d been mostly by accident. But now here was Sylvain, whose scent would be infinitely better on him…he shuddered, gripping the edge of the wooden bench beneath him. 

He couldn’t move—couldn’t let himself move. He needed Sylvain to be the one to back off, because if he moved, it would be to be on top of him and nothing else. “Here, let me fffffix that.” Sylvain reached around him, placing his exposed wrist against one gland on his neck and simultaneously licking the other. 

Felix dropped his chin, growling loudly. Fingers dug into the wood, splintering it, while Sylvain moaned the most beautiful arrangement of sighs against his neck. He could command him off of him. He should. He _really_ should. _But why?_

“ _Alphaaa.”_

 _‘Focus on facts.’_ _What day is it again? Tuesday? Sunday?_ Whatever day it was, it was snowing. ‘ _Picture the waves of…’_ what? His hair? And how it seemed to always perfectly lie in a way-too-sexy-to-be-accidental way? What about the curve of his ass? His hand not gripping the seat somehow made its way to Sylvain’s lower back, and he pressed him towards him gently, smiling when Sylvain didn’t resist.

“Use your alphaaa voice, Felix, pleasssse.”

Felix pursed his lips shut, although he didn’t know why. Seemed like a dumb thing to do. He should be giving the omega what he wants.

“Please Felix, I want….,” he made a loud, unattractive swallowing noise, “… _you._ I want you. Want you. I’ve only want you. Right now. So long. So long I only wanted you. Please, Felix, no one else I swear. I swear on, on, on something important. Like super important. The most important thing ever. I swear on it.” Sylvain finally found his voice again, pressing wet licks and kisses against his neck between every phrase, each feeling like a hot brand against his skin, burning in both heavenly delight and torturous waves of nausea. It was too much, and Felix was trembling, the only thing holding him back now was this grip on the bench. 

Sylvain kept going, “I swear it. I swear it’s only you. Mmhph, I swear I—I—I—” He felt Sylvain pull off his neck and he growled from the loss. “—I want your mark.”

That kicked him hard out of his trance, jolting his vision to the omega—The Gautier Omega. The one he couldn’t have—could never mark. _How dare he taunt me._

From seemingly out of nowhere, arms wrapped around Sylvain’s shoulders, pulling him backwards off of Felix. Immediately, Sylvain cried out, a noise that pained every bone of his alpha body, a noise that should have had him on his feet fighting off the threat taking his omega away from him.

But that was just it. Sylvain was not his omega. He deserved no omega at all. _How dare you make me think otherwise. Don’t place this hope on me._ He sat, glaring at Sylvain.

Sylvain kicked and twisted without any regard for his body, whining loudly for Felix, while the person tried to grapple him. “Ashe!”

Felix recognized her voice. _Petra. Right. She said she’d help with this kind of stuff._ “Assistance please!” She shouted louder, Sylvain placing a foot on top the table, gaining leverage to arch his back, breaking free of her grapple. “Ashe!?”

Sylvain was on him again, only this time straddling between his legs, humping into his crotch, placing insinuating light bites against his gland. The wooden edge of the seat gave way, snapping off with a loud noise, his hands needing to rock the omega faster against his burning cock.

They never got the chance to.

Sylvain was pulled off of him again, this time by Petra and he presumed Ashe, if he’d bothered to look away from Sylvain. He stood up growling, ready to fight them both, but a hand pushed him back down and something slimy was swiped under his nose. He twitched away, scrunching his nose, batting his hands in front of him out of instinct. 

“Hey there, friend. Look at me, yes?” Felix blinked rapidly, senses completely confused as he currently couldn’t smell _anything,_ and it was definitely not snowing anymore, and he _desperately_ missed it _._ “Come on, champ, look here.” Felix watched Sylvain—why couldn’t he smell him?—being pulled to the other side of the room, suddenly aware of where he was and all the other people in the room.

Petra and Ashe both had one of Sylvain’s arms, pinning him down, but there was also Annette and Mercedes both wide-eyed behind the bar—Annette notably staring at Felix. Dorothea was standing near Ingrid, watching Sylvain being dragged with a guilty look on her face. Claude stood in the doorway, leaning on that pink haired devil of a woman, laughing— _I always knew he was an asshole._ There were others, but before Felix’s mind could comprehend them, slender, painted fingers snapped in front of his face.

“Hey there, easy now. I know things smell off, but it’s the fastest way to calm you down.”

“What the fuck did you put on me?” He asked, finally turning to see the purple haired man— _Yuri._

“I didn’t put anything on you, and you’re certainly not going to wipe it off now that you’ve calmed down, yes?” Yuri said with a tone indicating he had no say in the matter. He tried to growl, but ended up scowling instead. _What the fuck is this stuff?_

“Can’t wipe away what’s not there,” he hissed.

“Good boy, now stay.”

* * *

_All of this just so I didn’t have to sing; almost makes me wish I’d just agreed,_ Yuri thought while walking over to the distressed and _very active_ omega, small jar in hand. He’d convinced Dorothea he’d help out with the after party instead of singing in the opera, as she had initially campaigned for. He’d thought it’d only involve finding the location, calling in some favors, and serving drinks. Alas, that _Claude._ He just had to drag in an alpha a day away from her rut, or so it seemed. Leonie had been the first he’d swiped with Constance’s concoction of pheromone blocking—whatever it is. Yuri didn’t care about the specifics. It worked, and that was all that mattered. He’d shoved her out into the alleyway for one of his birds to take her home.

“How is he this—ah!” Ashe dodged Sylvain’s foot kicking into a wide arc, slamming into the ground. _Why, what a flexible little boy we have._ “Isn’t he in heat?” Yuri rolled his eyes. Poor Ashe constantly misconstrued the finer points of scents and their owners. Of course a beta wouldn’t get it.

“He’s _close_ to a heat cycle, not in heat per se. Hold him still.” Yuri ducked close to Sylvain’s face while Ashe and Petra tried their best. The man was still whining for Felix. He didn’t think him an idiot enough to actually try anything _tonight._ Dorothea just wanted to butter him up to the idea of _maybe_ talking to Felix about his feelings for him. Then again, he did have the face of a dumbass so really Yuri was at fault here.

“I have seen omegas near heat,” Petra said. “this is not that.” He sighed as he screwed the cap to the jar of ointment open. Sylvain was having a…personal moment to be sure. With everyone around, Yuri would like to spare him some shame if it could be helped. Poor man had already had enough, and Yuri knew the feeling. No need to be sharing that the omega’s heat cycle was now fucked thanks to his own sheer horny willpower to get smashed by an alpha. _Least mine will write him a satisfying ending,_ he thought, eager to see his mate and tell her all _._

He sighed again, this time with pity.

Ashe must have caught the undertones of his sigh because he said, “Just keep him still, Yuri will help.” For all his unwarranted optimism, Ashe knew when to shut others up to get a job done, regardless of the methods. He liked Ashe for that very reason alone…and maybe because he was the best lockpick in town, but pish posh, he could like people for whatever reasons he wanted.

Not wanting to expose himself to the concoction for long, he quickly dipped a finger and screwed the lid tight. Holding onto Sylvain’s hair to keep him straight, he swiped under his nose and watched his pupils dial in and out, head twitching as he adjusted. After a moment his breath steadied.

“Uhm,” he said, blinking.

“Welcome back, you only made a fool of yourself by approximately thirty percent more than usual. Fairly certain Felix doesn’t want to kill you anymore than the average either. So a congratulations is in order,” Yuri chided, patting his face. “He’s fine now, you can let go.”

“I have never seen anything like that, you must share!” Petra remarked, looking at where Yuri had slipped the small jar away to. _Perceptive._

“Sorry, it’s not for sale, and rather dangerous, so I wouldn’t ask about it again.” Constance had given him an earful of warnings, which she'd felt the need to repeat to him immediately because he somehow hadn't conveyed ‘okay, yes I get it,’ convincingly enough. From what he could tell, repeated use of the stuff could permanently burn away your ability to pick up pheromones at all. There was a market in there somewhere, he knew, but hadn’t found the right buyer yet. Until then, it was good for emergencies. Or to stop a bunch of academy students at a party from becoming newsworthy. Dorothea owed him one, probably.

Ashe helped Sylvain to his feet, who was still a little wobbly, and held him steady. “Okay there, Sylvain?” 

“Yeah, I’m—“ He looked up at everyone in the room staring at him. Yuri watched as his face morph into that punchable, easy going expression, “Ha, ha, sorry everyone. I got a little out of hand there. Awesome party, Dorothea! Hey! Did we sing happy birthday yet?” 

She stepped forward. “It’s okay, Sylvain. We were just worried—“ Yuri knew the out Sylvain was looking for, and against his better judgement, took pity on him. So he started to sing. Loudly. 

The look on Dorothea’s face almost made it worth it. 

He gave a side eye to Ashe, who for once was already a step ahead of him and ushering the omega out. He caught the look Claude was giving him right before he turned back to Dorothea, others already—thankfully—joining in song; it said _‘I saw what you did there, don’t think I’m not interested._ ’ 

Little did he know he’d be sending him Constance’s way instead. Let _her_ talk his ear off and waste an hour of his time for once. Wait, on second thought those two might make a deadly combination. He’d need to rethink this.

The song ended. Dorothea, in tears, hugged him tightly. He muttered into her ear, “Don’t think this a new habit, now.”

“Never, Yurikins. _Thank you,”_ she whispered back. They separated, and seeing the lingering crowd, she went to dismiss them. 

However, the night was still young. And no need for a rowdy alpha and a desperate omega to ruin everyone’s fun.

“A round of poker!” He interjected. “Shall we make it high stakes after that display? Buy in is at ten silver,” he advertised to the crowd.

“Oh! That sounds exciting!” Mercedes peeked up from behind the bar.

“Hell yeah!” Caspar shouted, only to be shushed by Linhardt.

“You don’t even know the rules of poker still.”

“So?”

“You’re not wasting _my_ money. I’m in. _You_ get to watch.”

“Now this I can’t resist,” Claude said, marching his way to help set up a table.

“Claude! I thought we we’re leaving!? What about Leonie? And _you know what?_ ”

“I’m sure Leonie’s fine. Right, Yuri?” Yuri nodded. “See? And I’m fine. If I win, I’ll buy you whatever you want with the pot.” She squealed.

“Really? Okay, but you _have_ to promise. And at the first sign of any—“

“It’s covered, Hils,” he said with a tone indicating this was now Yuri’s problem to cover. Yuri struggled with wanting to deal the cards in such a manner to make him lose all his money or force him to spend his time shopping with _her._ Challenging to say which would be more upsetting to him.

“Birthday Queen?” Yuri asked Dorothea. She was looking rather bashful, _must be feeling ashamed over what happened with Sylvain._ He would make sure she won the first round then, grabbing a deck and already manipulating the cards while he shuffled.

“Oh fine. Ingrid, join in too!”

“Felix?” He looked over to the alpha, still seated where Yuri had left him, deep in contemplation.

“I’ll watch from here,” he managed to huff out. The bright-eyed redhead Yuri didn’t know made to move towards Felix.

“Annie,” Mercedes warned, “I think it’s best we leave him be for now. Come sit by me, you can be my good luck charm!” For half a second, Yuri thought he was going to have a second case on his hands, but Annie finally moved to sit at the table.

Two rounds later, Claude forced him to let someone else deal.

Fourth round in, Linhardt was asleep, and Caspar was losing all his money.

Annie had demanded to be dealt in for the fifth and, by a stroke of beginner’s luck, won.

By the time Mercedes was dealing a sixth, Felix had stood up and silently left.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -The musicians consist of a flutist, a percussionist, and a really enthusiastic hurdy-gurdy  
> -Claude arrived at the party purely to test out the viability and potency of his new heat suppressant concoction  
> -The next day Yuri attends to his alpha, dishing out all the sick details of the party with a particular focus on Sylvain and Felix. When he awakes later in her bed, he is satisfied to see she is at her desk, writing the next installment of her story, clearly inspired with the information he could provide.  
> -Background yuridetta ftw  
> **UPDATE** There's a Yuridetta side story, part of this series that takes place immediately after this chapter. "Write Me Down, Take Me Down"
> 
>  **Next Time:**  
>  An Aside  
> "I assure you Professor. Sylvain is merely a friend. His father has high expectations for him, as I'm sure you're aware. I am only trying to keep a watchful eye out for him." Dimitri's heart fluttered as he watched his Professor tilt her head to prop on a hand, looking at him with curious thought.  
> From the corner of his eye, the head of his father shook with disapproval.


	15. An Aside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth takes Dimitri aside to discuss certain intentions. 
> 
> Dimitri struggles with his wants and the wants of the dead.
> 
> Felix takes Byleth aside.

#  **Chapter 15**

##  **—An Aside—**

**—Academy Phase—Field of the Eagle and Lion—Wyvern Moon—**

**You should ask him.**

Dimitri stared off into the distance at the familiar shadowy figure, flickering in and out of his form. If he hadn’t spoken, Dimitri would have missed it. He was glad he hadn’t. They grow frightfully insistent the more he ignores them, willfully or not.

**It’s improper for an omega to go places unescorted, your Highness.**

Dimitri followed the gaze of the shadowy figure, unfazed by the hole carved into his shoulder and the several arrows protruding from his head. Glenn had looked like this for four years now, afterall. 

“You’re right,” Dimitri whispered back to him. 

“About what, your Highness? I had not spoken,” Dedue replied, always at his side. 

The unexpected reply forced Dimitri out of his stupar--Dedue was great at that, ensuring his best to keep Dimitri in the present and maintaining a quiet vigil when he didn’t. However, once a ghost makes himself known to Dimitri, he cannot bring himself to ignore their requests. They died for him after all, it’s only right he carried out their wishes. 

Dimitri blinked once, removing his stare from the ghost of Glenn Fraldarius, and diverting it to Sylvain who had exited the sauna by his lonesome. The longer he stared at the handsome red-head the heavier Glenn’s presence could be felt. It was all encapsulating, but Dimitri was now more well adjusted to the weight. Of course, no matter how long one could acclimate it still was like a too-large piece of armor upon a child’s shoulder. Never will he be strong enough to bear this burden, and yet, he must, for no one else can meet the needs of the dead.

“Your Highness?” Dedue said concernedly. Dimitri coughed.

“Uhm, I was just thinking--it’s quite improper to see an omega around unescorted this late at night? I think I recalled you saying as such once upon a time and I believe you are right. I should--maybe Sylvain would appreciate it if I accompanied him to the show?”

“I’m sure he would appreciate the friendly gesture, your Highness.”

“Ah.” _Friendly, that’s right._ Dedue had graced him on the topic of not smothering the omega--to approach Sylvain from a stance of deepening their friendship above all other matters. “Good.” In fact, Dedue was often his only confidant when it came to matters of secondary sexes. He’d only presented weeks before all semblance of life had been shattered, and while Rodrigue had been kind enough to personally grace him with some instruction, navigating the complex world of courting and friendships failed to ease post-presentation. If anything, it was far more complicated than before. 

Didn’t help that his ruts were far and few between.

He chanced a glance towards Glenn again. He had been the one who excelled at navigating his alpha self amongst the noble court and continues to be the one he’ll listen to on these matters. 

_But..._

The dead had been displeased with his recent choice of strategy regarding his courting of the Gautier omega, but Dimitri’s heart couldn’t bear to force his friend again. He’d spent hours late into the night arguing with them about it until Dedue had, as always, found him and guide him back to bed.

He saw a headless figure join behind the arrow pierced one.

Dimitri stiffened. 

“Why don’t you run ahead and save us seats?” He said to Dedue.

“Your Highness?”

“Go,” Dimitri said with a loose authority. “Sylvain and I will join you shortly.” Dedue responded with a bow, continuing onwards towards the Cathedral. 

“Sylvain!” Dimitri shouted towards the omega. Alerted, Sylvain turned, eyes bright upon seeing who it was, casting his signature charming smile that, at times (even say, right now), affected Dimitri in a way that cast warmth across his body. “I am surprised to see you date-less for tonight’s events. Care to join me?”

Sylvain shoved his hands into his pockets, looked down towards his feet, and twisted his lips into a crooked smile. Dimitri takes this as a positive sign. Omega’s did tend to get more bashful around him.

Dimitri slapped a bold arm around his shoulders, intending it to be a friendly gesture, but then let his arm linger as he walked him onwards. From the corner of his eye, he saw Glenn’s ghost disperse into the shadows, a signal he’d appeased him. 

They never disappeared until he appeased their requests. 

He turned back to Sylvain, his father’s decapitated body having teleported by his side, looming. 

“Did you hear Ashe is to play the villain in tonight's program?” Dimitri chuckled. “I can hardly imagine a man of such golden hearted values, like Ashe, being so villainous.”

“You never know, your Highness,” Sylvain laughed along, “some people can surprise you with their dark sides.”

* * *

As it had turned out, Ashe made for a spectacular villain. Too bad Sylvain had chosen a seat apart from him, a fact he was mercilessly aware of thanks to his ghosts. 

While Dimitri had watched the performance, the shadowed figure of his father’s head rested upon his lap, judgemental blue eyes watching him. 

He flinched when the Professor’s hand glided through the shadowed head to rest on his knee, dispersing it. How she was the only one with capabilities to do so had been the main source of his fascination with her. 

And of course her prowess on the battlefield and apt instructions to the entirety of the Blue Lions. Her skills alone were worthy of intrigue. 

But how, with a single touch, she always managed to appease his ghosts had drawn him instantly to her, from the first fateful day they met. 

“I’m terribly sorry to pull you away from this after-party I know nothing about, but this cannot wait,” she said to him. 

“It is no trouble at all,” Dimitri responded. He leaned over to say goodbye to Sylvain and Flayn, but Sylvain had shockingly already departed. Did the performance not just end? People were still applauding. Manuela was still upon the stage, was she not? 

He bid his farewell to Flayn, and he and Dedue followed the Professor to a more private location inside the Cathedral. 

“What is it you wish to discuss, Professor?” He saw her eyes look to Dedue momentarily before returning to him. “As I have said in the past, Dedue is my most trusted companion. Whatever you wish to say to me can also be said in his presence.” Byleth gave a slight nod.

“Sylvain,” she said. 

“Ah! Has he? Hrmph, I will speak with him again about his nighttime activities. I will not allow his fascination with perusing about to continue to reflect poorly upon the Blue Lions.” 

“No, that is not my concern.”

“Oh? Then…”

“The way you two behave around each other…”

Dimitri balked. Had...had he been that obtuse? Here he thought he’d been going the friendly route. Then again, the Professor was most observant. 

"I assure you Professor. Sylvain is merely a friend. His father has high expectations for him, as I'm sure you're aware. I am only trying to keep a watchful eye on him." Dimitri's heart fluttered as he watched his Professor tilt her head to prop on a hand, looking at him with curious thought. 

From the corner of his eye, the head of his father shook with disapproval.

He banished the thought of how cute it was. She was his Professor, and advisor and, not to mention, a beta. It simply wouldn’t do to allow such thoughts to exist.

“Expectations?” She inquired.

“Yes. You remember our talk after the Battle at Conand Tower?” The Professor nodded.

“Crests, the border…”

“Indeed. As it stands, Sylvain is the only heir processing the Gautier Crest. The Margrave is expected to live a long life, but there is still a large amount of pressure upon him to produce an heir and pass on the Crest. And as a high standing noble, he is expected to attract someone of equal standing if not higher.” Dimitri pauses to swallow, watching the shadowy figure of his father’s body emanate pressure. 

It disappears in an instant with the Professor’s hand upon his shoulder.

“Sounds like something you two have in common.” His eyebrows lift.

“Why, yes, I suppose that is true. As King and as alpha, I will be expected to choose a proper mate to bear my pups,” Dimitri said, stumbling through the words as the blue eyes returned to judge him. He looked to Dedue for strength and resolved himself seeing the Duscan man nod. “But I intend to mate for love. A privilege, I know, but nonetheless I believe it to be the right path.”

“And Sylvain?” The Professor asked. “What is it you wish for him?”

Dimitri once more faltered, his heart rate quickening. The body of his father morphed from its shadowy outline, now fully formed and detailed, his regalia sparkling with blood. It bent over, revealing the gorey innards of the jagged cut that had sliced clean through his neck, and King Lambert picked up his own head by its blonde, blood stained hair. 

**I could see you two pairing nicely together, Dimitri,** his deceased father said, parroting some of the final words he’d spoken to his son before their caravan had been stopped. Pigs to the pen, just waiting to be massacred. 

The ghostly echo was devoid of all the warmth his father’s voice of his memories held. He wondered if one day he’d completely forget his father’s voice had any warmth in it to begin with, replaced by his haunting, demanding ghost.

His father’s mouth twisted, a harsher, darker voice emanating out.

**Tear our enemies limb from limb, son. The Gautier Omega as Queen will lend you aid.**

_Yes, no other would be strong enough,_ Dimitri agreed. 

* * *

Dimitri’s eyes had glossed over again. He was looking through Byleth, as if he was present in another time completely. 

**That’s not possible,** Sothis said, **I’d know about it.** It did not have the comforting effect she thinks Sothis intended and Byleth didn’t miss the tone of concern in her voice. The prince of Faerghus was an ailing boy, one both Byleth and Sothis were at a loss of how to help.

She looked to Dedue, who stood, brow furled, clear concern written across his face. They shared an aggrieved look.

“Your Highness, it is best to be sharing your honest feelings with the Professor. She has already revealed to have your best interests in heart.”

“Yes...no other,” Dimitri said quietly. 

“I apologize Professor,” Dedue said. “His Highness’s moods tend to worsen in the evenings. I will escort him back to the dormitories at once.”

**What is he, a toddler? It is not even that late. Did you say something in particular to prompt such a change in mood? Byleth, do something.**

_Do what exactly? If Dedue can’t shake him from this, how can I?_   
**We must know his intentions with that omega.**

_Sylvain. He has a name._

**_Sylvain,_ ** **ugh. You’re such a brat, you know,** Sothis huffed. **You’ve seen Dimitri on the battlefield. We can’t afford to let an alpha like him get all uppity about an omega--**

Byleth barely had to think the correction before--

\-- **_Sylvain!_ ** **Especially with that Felix going around as well! It’s disaster waiting to happen! We can’t afford--**

\-- _I know. Something like that is bound to erupt on the battlefield,_ Byleth silently agreed.

 **You only have so many divine pulses.** Flashes of previous uses flew past her mind. Images of Felix being cleaved, Annette being pummeled by arrows, Dorothea being ambushed with no one close enough to lend aid. Her scream had haunted Byleth for days. 

Different images joined, ones she was not familiar with. Green hair people fighting each other-- _Alpha rage,_ her mind provided context--tearing each other apart. Even after one lays dead, the rampage continues until the familiar colored shift of time moves. **Byleth, you must do** **_something_ ** **.**

Not knowing what else to do, Byleth reached out to grab his hand, as she would with her father when he’d seem distant. She squeezed. “I’m right here, Dimitri. Look at me.” She watched the pencil-tip thin pupils slowly dilate, returning their focus back to her.

Now encouraged, she brings his hand into both her hers, linking their thumbs and curling his fingers around her palm. Hoping, and waiting for him to reciprocate the squeeze. “Dimitri…” She tried to turn the corners of her lips upward, to form a smile as she had practiced many times in the mirror.

“How do you…” He said, softly. He looked at her, properly this time, and flushed deeply. “Ah! You are--you’re holding my hand!”

Byleth held the smile as she slowly dropped his hand back in place. 

“And are you--you’re not-” Dimitri sputtered, “-smiling are you?” His flush was now reaching his ears. Had no one held his hand before?

“Your Highness,” Dedue interrupted. “You are unwell, we should be retiring for the evening.”

“No.” The two students looked to Byleth, mildly stunned. 

“Professor, I must insist,” Dedue said. 

“This cannot wait. The battle of the Eagle and Lion quickly approaches. Dimitri, you have yet to answer my question.”

“Ah, yes, my apologies. In regards to my wishes for Sylvain, yes? Although I do not understand how this relates to the upcoming battle,” he pauses, thinking Byleth will provide an answer. She does not. “I, ahem, I suppose, I see Sylvain as a...valuable ally. Even with his lazy ways and skipping training, he is a force to be reckoned with out on the field. Even more so now that you have granted him use of the Lance of Ruin. Under your tutelage, his skill will only blossom further. But if I am being honest,” he said, and exchanged a knowing look with Dedue, who encouraged him on with a nod. “I frankly do not see a reason for Sylvain needing to be hoisted away from Gautier, to be bred until an alpha bearing the Crest of Gautier makes itself known. Sylvain is a warrior strong enough already, suited for the title of Margrave, no matter how unconventional it may be. Once crowned King, I intend on having a conversation with the current Margrave about the situation, although I worry he won’t exactly be amicable to the idea.”

“As King, you shall impose many positive changes to the land, your Highness,” Dedue provided. Dimitri seemed to beam from the encouragement. Byleth took note of this. 

**He seems to be honest enough, but if he wants him to succeed his father then why has he been going around auspiciously staring at the poor omega?**

“If this is true, then I have a favor to ask of you,” Byleth said.

“Of course, anything I can do, Professor.”

“I would appreciate you keeping your alpha tendencies in check when around Sylvain going forward.”

“My--” Dimitri choked, “-- _alpha tendencies?_ ”

“Following him, glaring at him lustfully, in general being protective over how he spends his time and with whom,” Byleth said nonplussedly. 

“ _Lustfully_!? Professor! I-I simply cannot believe this to be true! I would never look at my fellow classmates as such! I assure you--”

“Dimitri, you are a strong alpha. Regardless of your intentions you have a certain...imposing aura. It is only nature, but I will need everyone focused for the battle ahead. If you need instruction on how to do so, I can provide. We had many alphas in our mercenary group and I’ve dealt with many on the road as well.”

“I do not think that will be necessary,” Dimitri said, slightly ashamed. “I-I was unaware I was having such ill effect on those around me.” The boy looked strained and guilt twisted in Byleth’s gut.

**Oh, great, now look what you did. He’ll shut himself in for good just like that one squirrely girl.**

“That is not what I am saying, Dimitri. Listen to the words you told me yourself. Sylvain is under a great deal of pressure from his father. It is perhaps your presence, that of a strong alpha, around him is a constant reminder of that.” Dimitri’s eyes flickered past Byleth’s shoulders and for but a moment she thought she might have lost him again, but the boy squared off his shoulders, standing tall once more.

“I understand. All too well, unfortunately,” Dimitri said with a certain sadness that ached Byleth’s heart. “I will do my best to assist you in keeping the Blue Lions focused and ready for the battle of the Eagle and Lion. Nothing will stop us from victory!” He said, reenergized. 

“Good. And then afterwards, if Sylvain and you are friends as you say, then I’m sure he will take the time to approach you in his own terms. Perhaps then the two of you could bond over your shared burdens?”

“That is…” Dimitri chuckled, “As usual Professor, you continue to offer up the most brilliant strategies and advice. I do believe the Kingdom of Faerghus is already in your debt.” He gave a courteous bow.

**Pah! If all it takes to run a kingdom is some meager advice then this world is in more sordid state than I previously thought.**

_Sothis…_ Byleth warned.

**Although, is it not concerning you he thinks your advice on maintaining a friendship is a good ‘strategy?’**

_I don’t think so. For some, conversation does not come natural._ The visceral feeling of Sothis rolling her eyes shivered up her spine.

**_I’ll say_** **.**

* * *

It was well past midnight and Byleth had hid herself in the gardens, keeping watch for any passerbys. She knew her students were out late and likely drinking far past their allotment, but chose to feign ignorance as plans were being made throughout the week. 

Her students deserved to cut loose every now and then after all. Never know when misfortune can strike. Best to enjoy pleasures while you could. 

So no, she was not worried for her students. 

Sothis had passed out hours ago, but even Byleth could imagine her giving her a scathing Look from that thought.

Okay, so she was always worried about her students. 

But no more than usual in this situation. 

Instead, she was selfishly worried one her students would stumble back and be caught by Seteth, reflecting incredibly poorly upon her as an instructor. 

She felt an immense pressure to please the unpleasable advisor and she had no idea why. She could easily strike down a man like that in battle. 

Sothis, stirring from Byleth’s anxiety, eagerly provided some imagery in her mind of Felix. Various moments of him being beaten repeatedly by her blade, followed by flashes of him always rising again to meet her. _Hrm,_ Byleth mused, confused at why Sothis would be showing her this. _He was never one to back down from a--oh._

**Ah, so now you get it? So slow, you mortals. Can we go back to your room yet? I’m sure the brats will avoid him on their way back. This wall is a poor excuse for a bed.**

_You can float in your sleep._

**Tsk! This is a matter of propriety, Byleth!**

Byleth willed herself to ignore Sothis’s japes, keeping an eye and an ear out for any of her students. If she needed to intercept Seteth on his patrol, she would need to be ready.

She swung her attention around from the sound of a dormitory door opening, seeing only in time to see it shut and know it was Leonie’s room. A small figure stalked away and into the shadows heading towards... _hrm, Abyss?_ She racked her brain, was Yuri invited to this party as well? _Maybe I should invite him to lectures._

**Absolutely not.**

_Why not? He’s a good fighter and can provide unique insights._

**That boy smells of trouble.**

_Yes, and with him around, we’ll know what kind of trouble he’s serving._

Sothis didn’t respond so she took it as she’d convinced her well enough. 

No too long after Byleth heard voices in the distance. One of a distinctly drunk Sylvain and another hushed voice--male she thinks. _Hopefully Ashe._ She made a quick lap around the gardens, thankful Seteth’s patrol seemed to have him on the other side of the Monastery currently. 

“You don’t think he’s like...going to-to _hate_ me, right?” Sylvain slurred.

“I’m sure Felix will understand. Come on, now, let’s get your tucked in, alright?” 

Byleth relaxed. It was Ashe. Knowing a beta was taking him back reassured her, but at the same time she wondered what Sylvain had done to upset Felix this time. 

She wasn't sure which it would be. If she’d eventually find Felix brutally punching Sylvain’s face out until he bled and passed out, or him pressing his knot into him in an overly dramatic show of passion. The boy constantly seemed to teeter the edge between the two, but thankfully Byleth could rely on his need for mastery of the sword to keep him out of trouble. 

Felix had his problems, but they were predictable.

Sylvain, however, as Byleth had learned, had crafted his predictability and was more likely to deviate if pushed. 

Witnessing their fight, where Sylvain had been the one with venomous words instead of Felix had shown what he was capable of.

But it’d been watching the cocky, jovial soldier--solid in his demeanour even as they fought up Conand Tower--diminish to barely a whisper of a child in front of his brother that had done it for Byleth. It had been with no thought what so ever she’d stepped in between the two to slay the elder.

“Hey Ashe, I know this is stupid, but like, could you stay with me? I--I don’t want to be alone.” Byleth could just barely hear Sylvain’s slurred words as they trekked up the stairs to the noble dorms. She wasn’t able to hear Ashe’s response, but when he didn’t return back down, she assumed he had granted his request. For that, she was thankful. 

An hour later she heard a familiar gait of footsteps against the gravel.

_Predictable._

She rounded the corner of the gardens to see Felix marching towards the training grounds. 

“You. Bed. Now,” she said, projecting a whispered voice across the space with a fury he’d be remiss to ignore. 

His feet froze in place, but didn’t bother to look towards her. He knew who she was. Clenching his fist, his breathe picked up, growing more rapid until he turned on his heel towards her.

“Spar with me.”

“Absolutely not.”

“I’m not taking no for an answer. Not tonight.”

 _Not tonight? What did that mean?_ Byleth could smell the alcohol on his breath, but took a moment to investigate further. Byleth was very familiar with her student’s unique scents. It was important both as their instructor and as their leader in the field of battle to be acquainted with them. It provided good knowledge about team dynamics, who to put with who on the battle field. As well as a good base in case anyone needed to be tracked. 

It came at no surprise she picked up Sylvain’s upon him. 

But there were others too. 

“You haven’t slept. You smell of booze. You will lose.”

“Tch. I _want_ to lose,” Felix said with a certain sense of desperation that alerted her.

Very few times has Byleth experienced bewilderment. The first time was when her blade had sliced through skin with alarming ease--the knowledge that killing a man was considerably easy; the first time Sothis had stopped time; literally any time her father sings; and now, Felix pleading with her to fight her so he can lose. 

**So much for predictability,** Sothis yawned between sleeping positions. Byleth warily agreed. 

“Normally you say you will defeat me,” Byleth said, wondering if her confusion was apparent. “Why the change in attitude?”

“Don’t you get it?” Felix continued. “Tch. Of course you don’t, why would you?” He spat. “Spar with me. I need this reminder. So I won’t do anything idiotic. As you said, I haven’t slept, I’ve been drinking. It won’t take long.”

Byleth weighed her options. Seteth was still out on patrol and the changeover wasn’t for another two hours. Many of her students had yet to return, the majority of which omega. 

But Felix was clearly having some sort of crisis. One that needed addressing. 

“Tomorrow. You need rest.”

Felix responded by growling low and dominating. 

_Ugh, I hate it when they’re like this._ In a quick and practiced movement, Byleth tugged at the alpha’s hair as a feint while her other hand grabbed at the base of his skull while she kicked out his knees. He dropped to the ground and Byleth easily wrestled with his arms, locking them both back with a bored sense of ease.

“This is unlike you Felix,” she said directly into his ear. “Does this have anything to do with the fact Sylvain’s scent is currently covering your neck?” Felix struggled against the submissive position, scowling, but chose not to respond. Byleth huffed, annoyed with the situation. Sparring with him would certainly reveal more, but she was not about to accept his offer. Not when he was so willing to lose. _But for what reason?_ It wasn't the most pressing issue, and she had her guesses (Sylvain, Dimitri), but right now she needed to hone in on the fact he's lost the will to fight.

“Don’t want to answer me? Fine. But I will not indulge this perversion of your resolve.” Felix jerked his head away from her gaze. “I will spar with you, Felix, but only when you have the determination to win. Otherwise you are wasting my time. To admit defeat before you have the blade in hand is a foolish mentality. More fool hardy than any of those Knights you claim to loathe.” Felix twisted more beneath her, trying to break from her grip. _Good._ She gripped harder, further submitting him to her will. 

Disappointment ripped through her as he ceased his struggle. _Not enough, I must go further._

Byleth doesn’t yell. She does not scream, nor hiss, nor spit. She speaks calmly, but with authority of having led countless men to their deaths and with the kindness of having quickly killed many more to put them out of their misery. “If a single night of drinking, piss poor sleep, and,” she took a risk by saying this, but she had a decent hunch, “teasing omegas can destroy your volition this easily then you are in for a rude awakening. Because the world will never wait for you to be in top form. What if the rest of your fellow classmates were attacked on their way back? Being attacked right now? And you come to me pleading to _lose._ I would leave you right here and go to their aid without you. How could any of us trust you in the state you are in? You are better than this, Felix. Do not disappoint me by backing down now.”

She backed off by a margin of an inch, letting the scolding words set in. He was visibly shaking now, but Byleth’s iron grip kept him in place. 

“ _Let me go,_ ” Felix hissed with the full authority of his alpha voice. _Finally._ Byleth loosened her grip enough for Felix to just barely struggle his way out of. He stood, dusting off his pants and held her gaze, both with a quiet fury. Crickets filled the silence, a distance owl hooting in the night. Byleth was patient. And Byleth would wait for him to find himself--to ensure he would. 

“I’m going to bed,” he said. “Be ready to fight me on Monday.” He gave a respectful bow and turned to head towards his dorm. 

She relaxed.

 _Was I too harsh?_ Byleth asked Sothis. She turned to see Sothis levitating, curled up like a cat, sleeping peacefully. _Probably not harsh enough,_ she supplied her answer.

_We'll see on Monday._

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Byleth: Thank whoever I'm a beta. This hormone shit be bananas Sothis: Ur welcome. Also, I'm sorry. Byleth: wait wut?  
> -Ashe reads to Sylvain from Thorns of the Righteous: Sir Alexandre Chevallier and the Harrowing Stead. Sylvain seems to calm down more after being told Felix liked it  
> -I couldn't fit it in anywhere, but know that Hilda takes Claude back on piggyback. She manages to not speak to him for a full hour because he made her work.  
> -Byleth is very tight with the gatekeeper, she let him know what was up and that's why all the students are getting back in after curfew so easily (she also gets reports on Sylvain's late night activities)  
> -Caspar comes back, carrying a sleeping Lin fireman style whistling a tune loudly and Byleth does end up needing to intercept Seteth even though they aren't her students, 'cause she knows Caspar would give away they were at a Blue Lion party. 
> 
> **Next Time:**  
>  Ingrid's No Good, Very Bad Day  
>  _Oh just kill me now,_ Ingrid thought, _Please Goddess. Before I kill him._
> 
> I have one more week of writing prepared and then things will be delayed through the winter break as I am making a whole bunch of gifts and will take time to write a whole bunch more again. Be sure to subscribe to get emails when I update! 
> 
> Thank you for reading <3


	16. Ingrid's No Good, Very Bad Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ingrid's bad days are almost always, with guarantee, in due part to Sylvain.
> 
> And while this day is no outlier...
> 
> Somehow Felix manages to take the cake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes on this omegaverse <3 aka ooh baby we adding the mpreg tag (although its only mentions of it...for now)  
> -Male omegas experience an extremely uncomfortable shifting shortly after implantation to make room for the growth of a child. For them, it is the first sign of pregnancy and is referred to as the early quickening.
> 
> I wrote almost all of this back in August while my partner was working 10-15 hour days during the middle of the night for two weeks straight. At the time, I had no idea how much in I'd fall back in love with writing. I was scared it'd be a short lived hobby so when I scheduled this chapter to publish in December, I thought "surely I won't have the motivation by that point." Jokes on me, I'm still writing baby!!!
> 
> Feb 2021 UPDATE: I've placed this into a series simply titled Faerghus Four Omegaverse so I can feature some side stories that aren't sylvix focused. The first of which is Dorogrid and timewise occurs right before this chapter, but I'd actually recommend reading after finishing this chapter.  
> This fic will return to regular updates towards mid-late Feb. We only just finished moving last week, so thanks for hanging with me!

#  **Chapter 16**

##  **—Ingrid’s No Good, Very Bad Day—**

**—Academy Phase—Field of the Eagle and Lion—Wyvern Moon—**

Sylvain poked his head out of his room at her. “Ingrid! You’re back, come here for a minute would you?” She’d been back from her trip with Dorothea and the Professor for a day now, but had been busy doing…other things. From his tone it sounded like he’d gotten himself into trouble with yet another alpha while she’d been gone. She entered his room and stood arms crossed as he sat, taking a laid-back position at his desk.

“What’d you do this time?” She asked.

“What!? Always so quick to judge, Ingrid, seriously. It’s nothing. I just—“

“You really expect me to believe it was nothing? Especially after the way you behaved at Dorothea’s party? Just tell me who it was so I can get on with it.” Going through the motions of apologizing to a broken-hearted alpha on his behalf was sadly second nature to her by now. The quicker she can get it over with the sooner she can return to…what she was doing before this.

“No really, I just need your help with something. Please, I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t desperate,” he said kindly. _Too_ kindly. Ingrid pursed her lips and made a face indicating her stance hadn’t changed. He made messes, she cleaned them up. That’s just how it went. “I’ve never asked anyone for help with this stuff, but I trust you, implicitly,” he said so sheepishly it gave her pause. His tone sent her back almost a decade into the past. An image of a young Sylvain, covered in bruises saying ‘ _please, Ingrid, it’s not all that bad._ ’ Another, of Sylvain at eight, ‘ _please, Ingrid, believe me, I just tripped._ ’ 

She of course never believed any of it, but did as he asked and pretended otherwise. Eventually, as their friendship deepened he no longer pleaded, but simply said he trusted her. Maybe he knew she was aware of the realities of his situation and it was his way of confessing without needing to speak it aloud. In other words, ’I trust you not to tell anyone.’

She had failed to write to him after his “accidental” fall, not because she was deep in mourning for Glenn, but because she knew she couldn’t keep that trust he'd put in her. In the end it hadn’t mattered. The Margrave had banished Miklan and she has held onto the guilt ever since. She’s tried her best to be there for him since then but it took until…

Sylvain, a blossoming omega, like the one she was supposed to have been, at seventeen, flirting with any alpha with a pulse. She’d confronted him. Okay, so she’d _yelled_ at him. ‘ _Why are you like this? Can’t you see this is hurting you far worse than any girl’s heart you break? You’re worth more than this you know!’_

 _‘Hey, Ingrid—and I’m only going to tell you this ‘cause I trust you—I’m doing this because I know_ _exactly_ _what I’m worth.’_

“I trust you…” Sylvain, student of the Officer’s Academy, at twenty years of age, repeated to her more softly now, snapping her back to reality. 

An arrow pierced through her heart. Something was seriously wrong.

Darkness swirled at her feet, waves growing larger as her stomach rolled in the storm of fear. One of her worst nightmares was coming true. He’d forgotten to take his moon’s tea and needed another solution. She’d always kept the possibility in the back of her head, with various potential plans, but hoped he’d never actually be in the situation. Her heart started racing. _Okay,_ she willed herself back to reason. _It’s okay, I can handle this. He trusts me. I can get him out of this._ She’d need to get him to Professor Manuela first. Together they could sneak him out…

Sylvain continued talking unaware of her anxieties, “I can already tell this one’s going to be worse than normal. And it won’t mean anything! I promise! I just, want it to be over quick—Ahh!” He yelped and doubled over before he could finish. Ingrid rushed to check on him. He moaned painfully, and her panic deepened. _Oh no, he’s quickening._

He lifted a shaky hand to her face, grasping her cheek and pulling himself to her, his face grazing tender spots on her neck. “I’m sorry Ingrid, I thought I had a few more days—“

“No, it’s okay. Let’s get you up, the sooner the better. Manuela will help and—“

“Manuela? No Ingrid, I want you to stay. You’re just my friend, I promise, but please help me. It hurts so much already,” he moaned into her neck and— _Hold up is he kissing me!?_

Sylvain was dusting her jawline with kisses, moaning. She blinked rapidly, trying to wrap her head around the incongruence. She pushed him back, keeping her hands on his shoulders to steady him.

“Sylvain, didn’t you already have your heat?” She’d thought it had started at the party. Ashe had taken him back and then she took off the next day with the Professor and Dorothea. By her count he should have been finished a day or so ago.

He shook his head drunkenly, “It _just_ started—how can you not—“ his eyes got wide, “You’re _mated_!?” Ingrid froze, simultaneously not believing how quickly he’d pieced it together and relaxing now that everything made sense. He wasn’t pregnant, but in heat, and an awful painful sounding one to boot. She felt like an idiot for not noticing. He definitely smelled of omega pheromones, but she had attributed it to a recently ended heat and not beginning-right-this-second heat. Now that she was mated, the effects of other omega scents wouldn’t bother her anymore. It almost comforted her, maybe it would be true with other things…

“Uh…y-yeah, don’t tell anyone please,” she responded. Sylvain’s breath was starting to labor, but his eyes were still lucid and they continued to stare at her incredulously. He blinked a single time, eyebrows lifting judgmentally as they opened, processing everything.

“Take me to my bed,” he directed her. Thankful he opted not to comment. She draped the tall omega over her shoulder and gently placed him on the bed, easily ignoring the wave of Sylvain-scented slick near her face. 

“I can help you get prepared, get you anything you need…” she said awkwardly. There were none of the signs he’d anticipated this happening today.

“Who?” He asked. She looked at him, taking a moment to understand what he meant, and then debated if she could share it with him. She’d always been a terrible liar and wore her thoughts on her sleeve so it came with little surprise when Sylvain pressured her, “I told you mine, it’s only fair.” She swallowed.

Sylvain at eighteen, alone and drunk off his ass the day after the Grand Tourney. ‘ _Ha! What’s my problem you so kindly ask?’ Their gazes locked and Ingrid watched in real time as his brown eyes sobered up. ‘I trust you Ingrid, you know that, right? Like more than most. So don’t….just don’t. Okay? ... It’s him. Always has been, always will be, and will never matter that I have an opinion about it. Family can’t afford to mix with runts, you know how it is.’_ He had then thrown up on her shoes. And just like in all things Sylvain, she’d cleaned it up. 

She took a deep breath. _It’s okay, you can trust him too._

“Dorothea,” she said softly with a smile. 

“Figures,” he huffed with an eye roll. She’d need to unpack that later when he wasn’t trying to unlace his breeches. “Bottom drawer, in the linen bag. Toss me everything that smells like him.” 

She followed the instructions, opening up the bag to see a wide collection of items. _Ugh, seriously Sylvain? Just how many alphas gave you this stuff._ She started sorting through it, giving gentle sniffs to try and identify Felix’s scent. She picked up an old matted piece of wool. _Is this from my old coat!? Ugh._ She had definitely not given that to him and pocketed the wool lining before continuing the search. 

She could hear Sylvain whining at how long she was taking. “Bloody wrappings and one of the towels,” he informed her, finally kicking off his pants. 

She spotted the torn up bloodied rag and tried to not look judgmental as she tossed it to him. She watched him shove it in his nose and sigh longingly, his whole body relaxing in a way she almost envied. _Huh._ Maybe pitied was a better word. 

There were a number of towels, the first scent she didn’t know, but the second…Ingrid recognized the scent from when she had to break down a door and carry the alpha herself. _Bernadetta!? Fallen Goddess, Sylvain! Not sweet Bernadetta!_ Any time she’d start to pity him, he’d never fail to disgust her again. 

She finally found the towel with Felix’s autumn scent on it and couldn’t help notice her own senses heighten at it. Yet another thing she’d didn’t have time to unpack, and she tossed it to him. He gasped in delight. 

“Do you need more?” Surely two items was not enough to warrant satisfying his nesting needs, especially if he said this one would be bad. He nodded and whined with a pitch very few unmated alphas would be able to resist. It registered in her brain as such, but failed to evoke any physical response from her. She smiled at how nice that felt.

Biting her lip as she verged back into pitying Sylvain territory once more, she rummaged around again, finding the unmistakable blue of Dimitri’s cloak. “What about this?”

 _Bang_! The noise jostled her. His fist had banged on the side table as he shouted, “Fuck off! Destroy it!”

“Ohh-kay,” she said cautiously. She could have sworn those two had a thing going from the way His Highness spoke. She pocketed it as well. “I can go ask Felix for more,” she suggested.

“No—no, he wouldn’t,” he struggled to speak, movement coming from the bed. Ingrid kept her eyes towards the ceiling, but she knew his hands and fingers were already in places. “Ah—go ask, Claude.”

“Claude?” She didn’t even know those two spoke to each other.

“Yeah,” he moaned, “Tell him, it’s a bad one—ah—he’ll understand.” She had no clue how the Golden Deer leader had anything to do with this, but opted to trust Sylvain. Maybe it was some omega thing she’d never learned.

“Sure thing, you’re going to get through this, Sylvain. I’ll be back soon.” She grabbed his key and left locking the door behind her. 

She exhaled. Okay, at least he wasn’t pregnant, but now she had to chase down Claude. Lest assumptions be made, she’d also first need to rinse off any lingering scents from Sylvain. She groaned, realizing she’d likely miss out on training because of this. Least she could relax at stable duty tonight. Well, once she knew Sylvain was taken care of anyways. A quick thought went through her and her ears burned, _and a mate to return to for the evening._

A distressed call startled her, “Ingrid?” She turned to see Dorothea, eyes wide and watery with forming tears. She’d just witnessed her exiting Sylvain’s room, reeking of omega in heat. 

“Dorothea, I can explain.”

She gasped, “Oh, I’ve been such a fool!” And before Ingrid could explain herself, she watched her mate turn heel and run, quiet sobs echoing in her wake.

* * *

“Dorothea please open up! I can explain!” She had run into her room, Ingrid arriving just in time to hear the click of the lock. “It’s all just a misunderstanding!” She could hear her mate crying beyond the door and the primal urge to break it down burned into the back of her head. She was unsure if she’d actually be able to break down the reinforced omega doors, and recalled the scene she’d caused when she had with Bernadetta’s. She desperately needed to keep their mating a secret and was already drawing some eyes from banging on her door for five minutes straight. The irony of looking just like Sylvain, having just helped Sylvain, was not lost on her. She paused her fist. 

“I need to attend to my duties, Dorothea. I’ll be back this evening and I’ll explain, okay?” She swallowed, feeling like she needed to reassure her more. Quieter she said, “I’d never leave you.”

* * *

It had been almost an hour and a half and she was still searching for Claude. She had no clue where the leader of the Golden Deer liked to hang out. He wasn’t in their classroom, or the reception hall. 

Or the dormitories. 

Or the stable. 

Or the library. 

She felt like she’d checked everywhere.

“I expected Sylvain not to show, but for you to start slacking on your training?”

 _Felix_.

She looked over to where he was, lounging on the ground against a tree, book in his hand. Seeing him so relaxed while she was fraught with worry, knowing Sylvain was in agonizing pain over this, _this jerk,_ was wholly intolerable. 

“I’ve been on some asinine fetch quest for Sylvain this whole time! But not that you would care!” She growled at him, stomping onwards to continue the dumb quest. Maybe Claude was in the gardens.

“Whoa, hold on. What does he need?” She twirled on the spot, and upon seeing a genuine look in his face, felt guilty for her outburst. 

She walked over to him calmly and spoke quietly, “His heat started early and he wasn’t prepared. He asked me to go get something for him. I have it handled, you don’t need to worry.”

“Tch, you don’t sound like you have it handled,” he said and sat up from the tree, moving his hands to his vest, unbuttoning it. 

“W-what are you doing?” He removed the vest and untucked his shirt, undressing himself in front of her eyes. “F-Felix?” She looked around nervously for anyone else who may be watching, but thankfully saw no one. She felt herself getting flustered and face going red as he lifted the shirt above his head, exposing his lean build. She felt a stirring down below. _Fuck._ Ingrid despaired. So mating hadn’t fixed this brokenness inside her.

“Here,” he shoved the shirt in her hands, “I’m sure he’ll appreciate that after the foolery he displayed at the party.” Her eyes couldn’t help but linger, lips licking and a hand with a mind of its own reached out to touch him. He caught her look and casually pushed her arm aside. He glared at her though, eyes full of both pity and a warning that said _I told you not to try anything ever again._

He moved away from her to his satchel, procuring a second shirt from it. “I had yet to change from training anyhow,” he said, redressing himself. “Don’t tell him I gave it to you. Say you found it in my room.”

Ingrid gulped. Why did she feel like she was beginning to get in the middle of something she wanted nothing to do with?

* * *

She gave up on finding Claude. The day was getting late and she couldn’t be late for her stable duties. The shirt from Felix would have to be enough. She didn’t even know how he thought Claude would possibly be able to help.

She stopped by Dorothea’s door before heading up to check on Sylvain. She still wasn’t responding, but her senses told her she was still inside. 

“I’m just checking in, Dorothea. I still have stable duty, but I’ll be back after that. I’ll even bring us some dinner and we’ll talk. Please, I promise you Sylvain is just—“ _Thunk_. Something had been thrown at the door at mention of his name. Ingrid sighed. “I’ll be back with dinner. Please open up for me then.”

Ingrid said a brief prayer of thanks to the Goddess when she found Sylvain passed out on his bed instead of actively in the throws of heat. There just were some images she would prefer not to have seared into her mind. 

She laid Felix’s shirt over him like a blanket and moved to prepare anything else he’d need. Poking around his drawers she managed to find his stash of snacks, placing them within reaching distance. She’d also found a stack of letters, and while it wasn’t her place to be reading them, she could tell they were from Felix. Sylvain turned in his sleep, sighing contentedly as he pulled the shirt up to his face. _Just what is Felix playing at? Sylvain loves him, and yet he goes around saying ‘don’t tell him I’m giving him my scent.’ Goodness, these boys._ Not that she was any better, running around with a secret mating mark.

She poured him two glasses of water, refilled the pitcher and placed a shallow bowl of water with some washing rags nearby before leaving. If his heat didn’t end in a couple of days, he’d need checking on again, but better to be done so by a beta. If these two idiots were having a lover’s quarrel she wanted out of it.

* * *

Stable duty felt like a gift from the Goddess herself as Ingrid inhaled the beautiful scent from her pegasus, Floraison. The day she’d achieved her pegasus knight certification had been one of her most prideful days at the academy. She’d spent a week picking her pegasus, spending adequate time with each mount to come to understand their unique quirks and personalities. Most of her friends had mocked her in what they felt was an unnecessary amount of time in choosing a mount. Those who didn’t openly mock her politely listened, albeit didn't fully understand, as she constructed her shortlist throughout the week.

The pegasus she picked needed to trust her with their life and vice versa. This mount would carry her into battles to save others. It would need to react to her orders as if their souls were intertwined, breathing and anticipating together as one. If she picked the wrong one, and they didn’t fit together well…well, Ingrid had considered it a choice of life or death.

Sylvain had picked his horse based off of its coloring. Because at times he really was just a shallow idiot.

The only person who had seemed to understand had been Ferdinand. She didn’t speak with him often so it had come as a surprise when he’d congratulated her on a top pick, noting on her bond with Floraison and had extended an invite to join him for tea to discuss their respective mounts. 

She frowned, realizing she had yet to take him up on the offer. 

She had spent this time reflecting on her choice while braiding Floraison’s mane, ensuring the growth was out of her eyes and had moved on to brushing her coat. The cold was setting in which meant her thicker undercoat was bound to be growing in. Leaning into the pegasus, Ingrid allowed herself a moment to take in the smell of her. The stables never failed to remind her of her home at Galatea, and for all the stress and responsibility home meant for her, the stables remained a fortifying force of her willpower. It calmed her. Centered her. Now she could formulate her words for Dorothea.

Their mating had been somewhat, although not altogether, unexpected. 

They’d made various promises in the clutches of their first mating and now, the very next day, it appeared like she’d been breaking one of them, or maybe all of them. No wonder she wasn’t opening her door, she had been attempting to promise nothing was going on between her and Sylvain. The thought sent a shudder down her spine.

Had she not mated with Dorothea would she have helped Sylvain with his initial request? She lacked an immediate answer and it only served to troubled her more. Would it have truly meant nothing as he had implied? Knowing what it was like, to lay with an omega, she doubted it would have stayed that way. She shook her head. She did not like this train of thought. Maybe she could sneak a ride in with Floraison before heading to the dining hall.

Thankfully Annette approached from the other side of the stables to distract her. Ingrid had been so worried about being late to the stables, in fear of leaving Annette alone to the task. She was sweet, and a diligent worker, but had a tendency to leave behind larger messes than often she fixed. 

“Um, Ingrid? You’re close with Felix, right?”

“Close is a relative term, but yes, we pretty much grew up together.”

“Then you would probably know how he feels about certain things right?” _What’s she getting at?_ _Her and Felix had arrived at the party together…_ she reached back further into her memories of that night. Many details had been lost from the amount of drink she’d embarrassingly had, but she could have sworn, between the banter with friends and the scent of her then soon-to-be mate, Annette had danced with Felix. _Felix_. Who definitely didn't dance ever. She did not like where this was going.

“It’s just he doesn’t, you know, display a lot of emotions really,” Annette said.

Ingrid laughed, “That is an understatement. He has his own way of showing his feelings though.”

Annette chuckled nervously, “And what would those ways be?” 

Ingrid narrowed her eyes, “Just what do you want to know, Annette?”

“Oh, ah, you wouldn’t happen to know if he likes me would you?” Ingrid buried her face into the side of her pegasus, knowing it'd reveal herself. _Do I lie to her?_ She would have sworn Felix was being sweet to her at the party, well, sweet for Felix, but she’d just seen him take off his shirt without _any_ provocation for Sylvain. And the letters! Her eyes went wide with realization. _Is_ _he_ _two-timing them!? No, that’s something Sylvain would do, not Felix. But…_ she had no evidence to contradict it. And now she was stuck having to lie for him! _Oh just kill me now. Please Goddess. Before I kill him._

 _“Uhh,_ I don’t really know actually. He’s a rather private person to be honest. Best you ask him yourself. He appreciates directness.” There. No lies were told and Annette would confront him herself on the matter. She could wash her hands of this matter and get on with her life. _And back to her mate,_ the darker part of her mind supplied.

“Well I kind of sort of already did ask him.” _Oh great, what lies did he spin to her._

“What did he say?”

“He just said he liked my songs? But like, no one likes my songs. I don’t even like my songs. They’re terrible and stupid and make no sense and he wasn’t even supposed to overhear me singing—“

“Annette,” she had to interrupt her before she talked her ear off.

“Hmm?”

“If Felix says he likes your songs, then that’s that. He likes your songs. Don’t try to read too far into it.” She watched her shoulders slump. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for that to come off as insensitive.”

“No, it’s okay.” Ingrid knew better than to think it was actually okay, but she really didn’t want to get in the middle of whatever mess Felix had created. He was going to get some serious words from her the next time she saw him.

“Let’s get back to work then,” she said.

* * *

Ingrid held two parfait glasses in one hand, and a toy animal she’d found at the marketplace in the other as she walked over to Dorothea’s room. She had no clue what’d she do if Dorothea didn’t open the door besides stand there like an idiot holding two desserts and a miniature sculpted pegasus. 

She gently tapped on the door, “Dorothea? I brought your favorite, peach sorbet. Can you please open up?” Thank the heavens the door unlocked. She entered and tried not to moan from the sweet citrusy scent—rightfully intermingled with her own cider scent—bursting through the air. 

Dorothea looked exhausted. Her face was puffy and all of her make-up had been wiped away, but in spite of that all she stood strong and looked her square in the eye. Ingrid offered up one of the treats.

“How about that explanation first?” Dorothea said sternly. Ingrid tried to hide how her headstrong and confident omega— _all hers_ —was making her. This was time for seriousness, but she did know Dorothea…

Ingrid smiled, “Well, I hope you can accept that it’ll come with a side of the most frustrating gossip.” She could see her eyes lift at the prospect, boosting her confidence that she’d piqued her interest into fully listening. She shared everything that had occurred the entire day. Sylvain propositioning her out of the blue, his heat, and him knowing of them. Then of course there was the news of Felix. She sat on her bed, eventually venting her frustration over the boys while her beautiful omega in the corner ate up the sorbet.

“And I’m sorry to report that I’m still broken. Seems being mated had no effect on that whatsoever,” she frowned. She hadn’t expected it to be a cure-all, but she had expected something at least. Once you’re mated that’s supposed to be it, after all. Your body desires no other. Or at least, that had been what she’d been taught growing up. 

“Oh, darling,” Dorothea finally spoke up, “You’re not broken, you’re perfect.” Ingrid gave her a half-smile, heart fluttering in her chest. 

“I, err, got you this gift. I thought you could have something to remind you of me.” She presented the small pegasus statue. Dorothea chuckled and walked forward to take it from her, sitting down beside her on the bed.

“Ingrid, this is sweet, but I don’t need any special trinkets to remind me of you. The only thing I need,” she leaned in close, her scent still mingled with her own from their mating, “is you.”

It was unclear who pulled who into the kiss, but Ingrid knew she had nothing to worry about so long as Dorothea was by her side. She melted further into her, tossing her hat to the side as she ran her fingers through her hair and Dorothea made quick work of her buttons.

Ingrid might have had a very bad, no good day thanks to the two idiots in her life, but there had been no mention of the evening needing to be terrible as well. In fact, it was about to be the very opposite…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Ingrid can't find Claude because Claude's in the cool cat club of "Got to go to the Abyss DLC" and is hanging out researching in the abyss library and may or may not also be trying to con Constance out of her formula of pheromone canceling stuff  
> -Ingrid's pegasus name is more or less french for Blossom  
> -Ingrid and Ferdinand being horse girls together may or may not be foreshadowing 👀  
> -Dimitri was also not present at training and for once Felix felt like he could chill outside with a book on the history of Dagdan fighting styles knowing the three people who would agitate him the most won't find him  
> -Also Felix: sees Ingrid walk past him without acknowledging him. "How dare she"  
> -We all know he's basically a cat sooooo
> 
> I have some thoughts on Ingrid and Dorothea's mating and was thinking of writing an explicit oneshot of the event to add in as part of this series. I didn't want to include it in this fic as it's still primarily sylvix focused. Please let me know if you'd be interested in such a oneshot!  
> ***UPDATE I WROTE IT, next in the series "Somewhat, Although not Altogether, Unexpected" E rated Dorogrid***
> 
> UPDATE UPDATE Chp 17 will drop next Tuesday Feb 16th  
>  **Next Time:**  
>  Victory at Gronder Field  
> He breathed slowly, ridding himself of the pleasant, relaxed looks of the omegas from his head. He needed to stay focused, stay on his task, avenge his loved ones. There was no time to partake in courting or mating rituals not when-  
> He opened his eyes in surprise. _Saints, has it really been over two years now?_
> 
> Follow me on twitter for updates! @fearlesswindy1


	17. Victory at Gronder Field

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "When we get back to Garreg Mach," Claude said, "let's have a grand feast to break down the walls between our respective houses."
> 
> The Faerghus Four examine the walls between their friendships.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings:  
> -Underage drinking (depending on where you live. Within context of story, is not considered underage)  
> -Auditory and visual hallucinations  
> -Description of body horror  
> -Lots of unreliable narrators, as usual

#  **Chapter 17**

##  **—Victory at Gronder Field—**

**—Academy Phase—Field of the Eagle and Lion—Wyvern Moon—**

Tonight was a good night, Dimitri had decided. _No, I dare think the whole day has been momentous._ The Blue Lions had secured the victory at the mock battle of Eagle and Lion, thanks to the brilliant strategy the Professor had devised (with some minor assistance from Dimitri) and now, despite the long walk back, all the houses had gathered together for a grand feast at the behest of Claude von Regian. He’d even somehow charmed the cookstaff into serving some of the wines from the cellar, although Dimitri wasn’t about to partake unless prompted. 

He was preening amongst the crowd, and his mind kept yelling for him to tone it down--to be humble in the face of your defeated foes, as Sir Gustave had taught him--but how could he when it was _his_ house that had achieved victory? 

And the odd thing was, Claude was almost encouraging it.

“It was a clever strategy, didn’t think they were all crazy enough to split their squadron up, attack on two fronts,” Claude said to the crowd, playing him up. He stood with one leg perched on the bench, leaning over to a small group of students in the Black Eagle house. Dimtri stood awkwardly behind him, unsure of what to do with his hands. 

“Who knew this guy was a one man army?” Claude chuckled, throwing a thumb in his direction.

“I saw the way you took down Caspar. Our battalion was broken in an instant,” a girl said to him, eyeing Dimitri carefully. 

She’s omega he suddenly realized. 

So’s Claude. 

“Well, heh, it was--” he started to say. 

“Come now, your princliness, you weren’t about to say ‘nothing’ now were you?” Claude tutted. He turned to look at Dimitri, his eyes quickly flashing down his body causing him to seize in place.

“I--” He’s never been able to smell peoples’ natural pheromones, not since _that_ day, but has instead learned (with a great deal of help from Rodrigue and Dedue) to analyze body language. The incline of a person’s head, say, just as Claude has so cleverly inclined his to best catch the air. Or maybe a lessening of tension, particularly around the shoulders and hands, like how this girl has leaned, or rather melted, into the table ever so slightly. 

Identifying it was never the problem. 

Understanding if it was on purpose posed a greater challenge. 

“Gosh, look at you!” Claude cut him off. “An alpha as strong as you trying to downplay all their abilities. Never thought I’d see it.” 

Dimitri made a face, instinctually wanting to deny it and realized it was the truth. 

“Shocking you don’t have a hoard of omegas trying to follow you around,” Claude teased.

 _Is that not what this is?_ He thought, mildly surprised.

“I jest! I jest!”

He forced out a laugh as a sign of no harm done, but a darkness had twisted at his gut. It took Dimitri an embarrassingly amount of time to realize it was desire knocking. 

He could probably have as many omegas as he wanted, couldn’t he? Especially after such a strong and decisive victory. Heat pooled deep below and wistfully, he thought he could--

A nerve deadened in the back of his head, tingling his skull. He turned his awareness slightly in its direction. 

He saw Dorothea chatting away to Ingrid, Caspar, and Raphael, the three eating their combined weight in food. Beyond them Felix was nodding along to Leonie’s animated gestures, and in the corner, where the vast candle-lit chandeliers barely touched, stood the fuzzy outline of his father’s headless body. 

Shame flooded him.

Felix caught him staring and scowled, distracting himself with a drink.

“Erm, excuse me,” he said politely to Claude and the others who had moved on with the conversation without him. He needed some air, to clear his mind, relax his body, and then he could rejoin the festivities.

There were people at the gazebo, in deeper conversations where the noise wasn’t as loud. Dimitri decided to walk past them, not wishing to intrude, and eventually ended up on the empty pathway between the stables and knight’s hall. Leaned against the iron wrought fencing, he exhaled.

The dead had been pleased with his victory as much as he had, leaving him to a semblance of normality for once. 

_Always though…_

Despite being a mock battle, the cuts and wounds had been real. Extraordinary skilled healers along with thorough use of the honor system had prevented any grievous injuries. But still…

_Always at the price of blood._

He breathed slowly, ridding himself of the pleasant, relaxed looks of the omegas from his head. He needed to stay focused, stay on his task, avenge his loved ones. There was no time to partake in courting or mating rituals not when--

He opened his eyes in surprise. _Saints, has it really been over two years now?_ He could count on one hand the number of ruts he’s had since presenting nearly five years ago. He should have had over a dozen by now and this has been by far has been his longest without.

 _Ever since Sylvain slapped me at the Grand Tourney,_ he recalled. 

It was almost as if the dead had control over his body too; relinquishing him of his lust after such a grand failure on his part. The ghost of his father commanded him clearly: his mate _will_ be the Gautier omega and he will have no else. 

_But I must give him space,_ he reminded himself. _He will come to me; allow_ _him_ _to make the rules of engagement._ The Professor had aided him greatly with this woe. He cared for Sylvain dearly, just as much as any of his childhood friends, and hated to have stressed him so. 

He shook his head, allowing the strands to lay over his face. He’s been gone long enough and should probably return and yet his thoughts turn to his Professor; her gentle, healing touch. Her inexplicable way to solve a burdensome trouble with few words. 

_Perhaps I could share with her..._ He stopped himself, sensing the ghosts mummer around him. _No, only I can ease their souls to the afterlife._

He looked out beyond, sight distorted from his hair, but sensed the dead were placated once more. 

_I need a haircut,_ he mused. _Before more than just Felix sees me as a beast._

He fixed himself and turned to head back, opting to avoid anyone on his way there to avoid questioning. The service paths are not well lit this time of night, but he knows his way, having walked them many times at darker hours by now. 

Immediately he’s greeted by the lonely, beautiful sight of Sylvain. His jacket has been taken off, resting on a box, and he’s leaning against the wall, partially obscured, holding a drink to the side of his neck. 

He stopped dead in his tracks, turning quickly and hoping he hadn’t alerted him. _Give him space,_ he repeated. And there was certainly very little space in the unlit service alleys. 

“Dimitri?” 

“Erm--” Caught, Dimitri turned and walked closer to him so that they could see each other properly. “I was merely making my way back to the feastivities. If you’ll excuse me.”

Sylvain scoffs. “Saints, I knew you’d been avoiding me. What gives?”

“I--have only been attempting to grant you some space.”

“Space? Dude, I thought--” he shook his head, thinking better of whatever he had planned to say, “--hey listen, you want my drink? You look like it’ll suit you better than me.” Sylvain held out the glass that had been resting on his neck.

“Are you alright, Sylvain?” Slumped against a wall, there were tiny beads of sweat on his brow, reflecting what little light still came from the sky. And, it could merely be the moonlight, but he also appeared rather pale.

“What, me?” His posture straightens in an instant. “I’m okay, just a little tired from the battle. Here,” he shook the glass in his hand, “it’s iced wine. Go on, take it, I don’t want the rest.”

Dimitri delicately grabbed the glass, being careful not to touch Sylvain, and gave it a sip to be polite. _Sure is a liquid,_ he thought jokingly to himself.

“I sincerely hope I haven’t offended you. I had only been advised I might have been, erm--”

“Smothering me?” Sylvain laughed, and Dimitri shifted uncomfortably at its enchanting timbre. “Man, it’s just, you have this uncanny ability to always find me at the worst moments-” Dimitri made a confused face, “-and no, I’m not talking about that time you found me wrapped around that one girl. _Or_ that other time either when I ran and leapt over the wall to hide from a girl.”

“You know this leads me to believe you are not actually, currently okay.” 

Sylvain waved him off with a smile. Dimitri strained to maintain respectful eye contact and as he successfully denied himself the lustful vision of Sylvain’s lips, his mind ‘helpfully’ provided him with the memory of how good they’d felt. 

He took another drink from the cold liquid.

“All I’m saying is you needn’t avoid me all the time,” Sylvain said. He pushed himself off the wall and Dimitri didn’t miss how his smile wavered and his body swayed for a split second.

“Are you quite sure you’re well? I can escort you back to the dormitory.” 

“Okay, now see, _that_ is smothering. I can head back on my own, really.”

“Ah! I see! This is good. The-the communication. I appreciate it, Sylvain.” He never knew which side of the line he teetered in regards to omegas, and especially Sylvain. If he could get him to continue to address his discomfort openly, then maybe they could forge a better bond. 

Sylvain’s smile brightened a little and he squeezed his hand onto the side of Dimitri’s shoulder. “Of course. Friends, right?”

Dimitri reciprocated, placing his hand on the top of his shoulder. Instinctually his thumb rubs slightly at the exposed skin. “One of my dearest,” he replied, relaying the sentiment. 

They hold here for what even Dimitri could tell was long past normal. Slowly Sylvain’s eyes closed, his head inclining towards the touch, and his breath relaxed. Dimitri carefully allowed his gaze to draw down the soft features of his face, along his neck to-

_Oh._

He now saw how badly he’d misplaced his hand on Sylvain’s shoulder. His thumb was not so innocently rubbing along a muscle, but instead massaging practically on his scent gland! He swallows deeply at the realization.

 _Should I move it? But he hasn’t-he’s-he’s not...rejecting this?_ In fact it seemed to be calming him of whatever ailment he insists on refuting. He willed himself to still his thumb.

_Small steps._

Sylvain’s eyebrows lifted up before his eyes reopened and Dimitri removed his hand before he could say anything. 

“Uhm, hey, do me a favor, yeah?” Sylvain said slowly and a bit drunkenly.

“Anything, Sylvain. I am here for you in whatever capacity you need.”

For a second Sylvian’s eyes went wide and he coughed, but quickly managed to turn it into a laugh. Dimitri politely pretended he hadn't notice. 

“I’m sorry, was that funny?”

“No, no. It’s nothing, nothing. It’s just, ah, if anyone asks could you tell them you saw me heading out with a girl? Reputation to uphold’n’all.”

“I don’t think-”

Sylvain smiled brightly and beautifully at him and moved his hand up from his shoulder squeezing tightly...and then too tightly. He was strong, naturally so, and Dimitri felt the coil of his loins heat once more, but did not remiss the threat.

“Ahm,” Dimitri coughed, delicately grabbing him by the wrist to remove him. “Of course I can.”

“Thanks man, I’ll owe you. Well, g’night!”

“Goodnight, Sylvain.”

Dimitri watched him walk away into the darkness. In the distance beyond the fading figure of the omega was Glenn, slowly clapping with a mocking grin.

He felt a tap on his shoulder, turning to see his father’s body fully manifested beside him. His head precariously balanced atop his severed neck and he smiled ominously. He pointed behind Dimitri. 

He turned to see Glenn teleported, now resting his head and smiling playfully along one of the storage boxes where Sylvain had forgotten his jacket. 

“I can’t--I can’t keep that. It’s improper.”

**_It’s not to keep. To return. This is your in, alpha champ. You did good._ **

Mindlessly, Dimitri picks up the jacket, attempting to smell any of the omega’s scent on it. 

Nothing, per usual. 

He was excited nonetheless.

* * *

_Stupid fucking body, stupid fucking body._ Sylvain was trying to keep one foot in front of the other, making his way back to his bed, but the world was steadily treadling towards a general amorphousness that made him want to stop and vomit. 

_Stupid fucking body._ He’d been so _fucking_ lonely during the worst heat of his life. He’d come out of it in time for the mock battle, as previously expected, but he’s been nauseated ever since. He’d initially blamed it on the moon tea Ingrid had forced down him, but the persistence of it, especially through the adrenaline of battle, had to be from his body’s displeasure of a failed heat. The Professor had even relegated him to guarding their base, swapping him with Flayn.

 _Saints be damned, stupid Dimitri._ For a moment, the alpha’s touch had eased his nausea, only for his surroundings to do a backflip once he’d left his vicinity. He almost, _almost_ wanted to take Dimitri up on that _‘whatever capacity you need’_ thing and invite him back to just...cuddle. _Only_ cuddle. So that maybe the world would stop spinning.

He’d made it to where the service alley opened out onto the long dormitory quad. He wouldn't have a wall to guide him anymore, only open grassways to the stairs. _Shit._ He paused, placing his forehead against the cool stonework, waiting for the wave to settle. 

_Gotta hand it to Ing and Ashe. Goddess, if you’re up there, hear my plea and bless them both for me, yeah? More patient than Saint Indech himself._ At first he’d only begged and begged for Felix, but by day three or so, when it was clear he wasn’t going to get Felix, he’d been going down his alpha cutie list and by the end of it he was even wishing for Dimitri’s strong body to be wrapped around him. 

Ashe never brought anyone. Which was wise (and also school rules) but it hadn’t stopped Sylvain from cussing him out each time he opened the door with zero alphas. 

_I’m going to buy him the best, most expensive book on knights out there._ He wavered. _Just as soon as I can walk normally again._

“Sylvain?”

He inhaled sharply, fixing himself up and ignoring how his movements were mimicked around him. 

“Hey Ing, what’s up?”

 _“‘What’s up?’_ There’s a huge feast going on inside the dining hall with various girls swooning over the Blue Lion victory and you’re out here. _Alone.”_

_Always seventeen words when two would do. Oh Ingrid, way to accuse me without saying as much. She knows me too well. Touche, mademoiselle, but two can play._

He smiled, leaning against the wall and rubbing his hand into his scent gland, the pressure helping mildly with the nausea. 

“Mhm,” he said cheerfully, ace in hand. “Where’s Dorothea?”

“None of your business,” she mumbled back. 

“I think it’s plenty of my business seeing as how it’s also my secret to keep. I just want some details. Like when. And how? And why? And what’s--”

“Would you be quiet?”

He smiled lazily, closing his eyes to regain his center. 

“Are you drunk?” she accused more succinctly this time.

“Wish I were. I’d be having more fun.”

She looked him up and down, studying him for any lies.

Finally she said, “Still feeling awful from your heat?”

“Ohh yeah,” he said, transferring his hand to the opposite side. He couldn't tell if the pressuring was aiding or hindering at this point. 

“I’ll take you back to your room, then you get one _simple_ question. Come here,” she said, hooking herself under his arm. His head rolled back without his permission and he saw Dorothea in the short distance. 

“Hey Dorothea,” he sang to her. Ingrid spiraled around in time to see the scathing glare she was tossing his way. “I think your mate hates me, Ing.”

“Gee. I wonder why.”

“Thought you said she knows.”

“Oh, she does.”

“Ah, that’s good then.” He proceeded to nuzzle against Ingrid’s neck.

“Sylvain!” She pushed him off.

“It helps with the nausea! Come on!”

“No. Absolutely not.”

They had made it to his room, down the long corridor, with the door still swung open when he couldn’t keep it in any longer.

“Why Dorothea?”

“Ex-cuse me?”

“I don’t mean it like that. I just--what is it about her that made you, you know? Forgo the whole arranged marriage thing, abandon your people to starvation for a generation, disappoint a lineage of ancestors, offend the crown.”

She scoffed. “You make it sound like I did a terrible thing. And...maybe you’re right, but I can’t change the past now.” 

She looked around his room, still a mess from his heat. At least the laundry had been taken care of. He laid down in bed and Ingrid wordlessly dipped a small towel in a basin to place on his forehead. His heart twisted into a knot from the caring action.

“Ahhh, the best Ingrid. She’s so lucky, you know that right?”

“Honestly, I’m the lucky one. I have- _We_ have new problems to solve, yes, but there’s time to figure it out. You understand why you can’t tell anyone?”

“Death. Famine. War. Yup,” he teased.

“Sylvain,” she chided.

“Oh come on, Ingrid. Like I don’t know about the pressures of arranged marriages and disinheritance.”

“Right. Sorry,” she said glumly. “But you asked ‘why Dorothea?’ and to answer simply, it’s because with her, I feel seen.”

Sylvain dared to open his eyes. “Okay, Ingrid, you’re going to need to elaborate because if that’s all you needed, Dorothea better clamp down on your neck harder. I’m seeing two of you right now. Doubly seen by one Gautier omega right here.”

“Close your eyes, you idiot. And that’s not what I meant. You understand that we have all these roles to fulfill, regardless of what we may desire. Dorothea she...sees and understands that, yes, but more importantly I don’t have to pretend around her, or hold back who I really am.”

He can’t stand the fondness in her voice, how it’s thick with devotion. _Does she not feel like she can be herself around me?_

_Of course not, she’s always having to mother me._

“Yeah, but has she heard you swear in front of the Duke when your foot slips out of a stirrup?” He smiled from the memory. He thinks she had been spending too much time with Felix, and it'd been the only time he's heard her swear. Her face had gotten so cutely red when she'd seen the Duke had overheard. 

His eyes are closed, but he can mentally see the death stare she’s giving him. 

**_'Told you,'_ ** Miklan sneered inside his head.

“My point _is,”_ she continued after a pause, “is that I feel like I can be it all, have it all, with Dorothea. I wasn’t scared. I had no doubts. There will be consequences, yes, but we’ll face them together and we’ll figure it out as we go.”

He smiled sadly. She sounded so confident in that and it hurt that he could never have it, but he was happy Ingrid had managed it. “You know I’ll help you two in any way possible. I care about you, Ingrid. More than most.” He opened his eyes to enforce his sincerity.

“I know. Thanks, Sylvain.” She kisses his hand. “Get some rest.” She left and the door closed behind her with a finality he hadn't experienced before.

**_'None of your friends want you, I heard them say it myself.'_ **

“Shut up.”

* * *

By the time she got back to the dining hall, Dorothea had set herself up towards the back, playing some game with what looked to be Bernadetta and Raphael. She relaxed. Of all the alphas in here her omega had picked the most unassuming and most respectful two to converse with in her absence. Not that Dorothea couldn’t handle herself, she knew she could, it’s just...she was still adapting to these new instincts to protect her. 

She began the lengthy walk down the hall, catching glimpses of conversations on the way.

“I can lend you the recipe if you--”

“Theory dictates you should have dodged instead of--”

“And in the year 1098 my great-great-grandfather established that no--”

“Ingrid! _There_ you are.”

Felix grabbed her by the elbow, forcing her into a conversation with Lorenz. 

“Didn’t you need to show me something?” Felix hissed at her.

“Oho?" Lorenz trilled. "Well, this sounds marvelous. I for one own a wondrous piece of history dating back to the formation of the Alliance. Mind if I tag along?” She blinked, puzzling the pieces together quickly. 

“Erm, actually, this is a private matter, Lorenz. Sorry,” Ingrid said as Felix practically dragged her away. They walked together, heading outside (and away from Dorothea) to the gazebo.

“Thank the Saints you showed. I was ready to stab a dagger into my ear if I had to listen to any more of that garbage,” Felix said to her.

“You could have made an excuse on your own, you know,” Ingrid said.

“Tch, I _tried._ I’m actually impressed Claude is able to manage that circus clown constantly preening around.”

“Speaking of--” She was still miffed at him for the other day and now was better than ever to make him answer for his crimes.

“Oh, no, keep me out of this.” He turned to get away, but Ingrid was one step ahead, grabbing him by his shirt collar. “Omph! The fuck, Ingrid!”

“Why does Annette have the impression you’re courting her?”

“What!? I’m not and--”

“And what _exactly_ is going on between you and Sylvain?”

“N-nothing!” He sputtered. 

“Ah, yes. A big whole lot of _nothing_ is what convinced you to take your shirt off in broad daylight for him--”

“You weren’t complaining then--” he mumbled. She ignored that. For now.

 _“--And_ write letters back and forth--”

“--You snooping around my shit?” 

“--Not to mention Sylvain’s stash of your dingy old stuff--”

“My _what!?”_

“--Oh, but _nooo_ , it’s all secret, don’t tell the other person. And Annette! She’s so hung up on you and from what she’s told me--yeah! I’d be too!”

“Would you keep it down!”

“You’re the one getting louder!”

They both paused, breathing heavily and staring daggers into each other eyes, neither backing down immediately. 

“Are you playing two omegas at once, Felix?” She asked seriously and quietly. The look on his face was enough of an answer.

“Serios’s Fallen Star, Ingrid. I’m not--I can’t--There’s no way they’d--and I’m not--nngh!” He stammered out. 

“What’s going on with you? Talk to me,” She said gently. 

“I’m trying to!” he shouted. 

“Fine. I’m waiting,” she huffed. They stared at each other once more. It was clear he was struggling with something, and she'd rather he be upset with her than for him to deal with a problem on his own. Felix's solutions tended to be more troublesome than they were worth. A few moments go by and finally Felix exhaled.

“I’m still mad at you for telling my old man about the spat I had with Sylvain.” 

_That? What on earth prompted that line of thought?_

“I wasn’t about to lie to the Duke, Felix.”

“Whatever. But during that talk he basically-tch,” He huffed and looked away. Ingrid was losing her patience and needed to get back to her mate.

“Basically…?”

“You remember when you presented? Surprised everyone?”

“Ah, yes, I had forgotten about _my own_ presentation,” she deadpanned.

He made a face that basically said _shut up_. It was identical to ones Glenn used to tease her with. Thankfully she was too angry at Felix to find it attractive. Mostly.

“Fine,” she relented. “Go on.”

“I’m sure you got a whole slew of talk about being a runt at the time,” he said. 

_A runt!?_

Offended, she opened her mouth, but found no words, merely letting her jaw twist as she looked at him incredulously. 

“I said, _‘at the time!’_ Hrmph, whatever, it doesn’t matter,” he said, and tried to storm off. She grabbed him by the collar once more. “ARG! _Stop that!”_ He hissed with his alpha voice. Surprised, Ingrid immediately shuddered, and backed off.

“Get to the point, Felix, or I’m going to tell Annette the truth.”

“There’s nothing going on! That’s the truth! My dad-the old man-he--basically said as much. He--” Felix paused to pinch the bridge of his nose and breathed. “He said he likely will be unable to find me a mate given how I am,” Felix finally said. Ingrid frowned. He sounded so...sad about it. Felix never sounded sad about anything nowadays. 

“Felix,” she said softly, placing a consoling hand on his arm. He knocked it off.

“There’s nothing going on. There can’t be. None of it matters. I can’t change me, so I’m just...doing whatever, I guess.” He threw his arms into the air in defeat.

“You’re still the heir to the Dukedom, Felix. You’re going to have to mate at some point.”

“Hrmph, well see.” 

_About the Dukedom or the mating?_

_“And_ you’re still a student of the Academy which means you _still_ need to watch your behavior. People are getting the wrong idea. You need to talk frankly to Annette.”

“I do! I did! I don’t understand why she insists on following me around. Thought omega’s didn’t like runts,” he said so quietly Ingrid almost missed it.

_Does he think-? How on earth could he possibly think himself a runt? Is that what this boils down to?_

Unexpectedly, Claude glided into place next to them, barging into their private conversation. He was holding two glasses, and carried a distrusting smile. “S’cuse the interruption, folks. But one Lord Lorenz Gloucester complained of missing his _‘conversationalists?’”_

“I’m not going back,” Felix said plainly, crossing his arms.

“Oho, I don’t blame you. If I’m being honest, I agreed to track you two down just to get away myself,” Claude chuckled.

“Felix, we can talk about this later,” Ingrid said, ending their talk but ensuring he wouldn’t close off the topic indefinitely. 

“What?” Claude said coyly, eyes glinting towards Felix. “This about you thinking yourself to be a runt?” 

Felix scowled and Ingrid gasped. 

“You eavesdropping little--”

“How dare you eavesdrop--”

“Whoa, hey, be kind to the losing side now? I’m still nursing my bruised ego, okay? And I can’t help it that all these eaves just happen to be on the ground to pick up. All I want to add,” he said lowly, tapping Felix’s shoulder with the back of his hand, “is maybe you shouldn’t be discrediting yourself so harshly there, Felix. Take it from an omega himself. And besides, I personally know _plenty_ who would personally handpick you from out of a bag,” he finished with a wink. Before either of them could ask for clarification he called out to someone else in the gazebo and walked off.

“What the flames was that about?” Felix said.

“Heavens if I knew. Do all omegas have some secret code amongst each other?”

“Shouldn’t _you_ be the one to know that?”

“I never got _that_ far in my training!”

“Hrmph.” 

A moment was shared between them as they both shook their head at the strange interaction with the Alliance heir.

“I’m getting some food, you want any?” Ingrid finally said.

“‘Course you would. Go on, I’m fine.”

“We’re not done discussing this, you know.”

“Whatever.”

* * *

Felix stayed glued to the spot after Ingrid had left. Something about the way Claude had said not to discredit himself had ruffled him in a way he wasn’t used to. He worked his lips around, chewing on the words.

There was the obvious: he wasn’t strong enough yet. He still couldn’t beat the Professor, and until then he wouldn’t be recognized as an able enough alpha for Sylvain. 

Then there were the factual events he couldn't deny: Annette leaning into him, walking along with him, falling asleep beside him. Sylvain, and even just then, Ingrid falling command to his alpha voice.

Then there was the speculation Claude had just presented him: He was desirable. By _“plenty.”_

Still, it felt impossible. He’s small, constantly angry, and while good with a sword, would never outclass nor outrank the Boar. 

His eyes flickered towards Claude, chatting casually with Lysithea and Flayn. His skin tone softened under the low candlelight enhancing all his warm features, giving him a glow. He constantly had an easy smile and attitude about him that normally bristled Felix, but now felt inviting. He’s undeniably handsome and--

 _Shit._ As if he had heard his thoughts, Claude’s own eyes looked up from the conversation, meeting his own. He smiled crookedly, then very deliberately swept his deep green eyes down his body and back to meet his face, finishing with a wink before turning away to reply to Flayn, having not missed a beat in the conversation.

_Is he? He was not just checking me out. No way, no-it’s impossible. It’s--_

A factual event that just occurred. 

He looked away to the ground, unsure what to do. “Hrmph.” 

Flustered, he walked off, not caring where to so long as he could no longer hear Claude’s stupid laugh. 

He ended up in the alley near the dormitory stairs and was forcibly stopped when he collided into Dimitri.

“What the-!?”

“Oh, my apologies Felix.” The Boar stood unaffected, like the brick wall he was, while Felix stumbled to regain his composure. 

“What are _you_ doing here?” Felix spat.

“Is it so criminal of me to want a moment of solitude?” The Boar feigned hurt, working a defensive tone to his voice. Something about it felt genuine to Dimitri, however, earning Felix a moment of weakness.

“Tch, whatever. Do as you please.” Felix turned to walk away, but the Boar kept talking.

“Although, I am happy to have quite literally bumped into you, as silly as that may seem. I’ve been meaning to convey my appreciation for the way we fought today. Truly, there is no one I wouldn’t trust more to have by my side.”

His stomach twisted. _Not Dedue? Not the Professor?_

“You mean no one better to cage you when you go wild.”

Dimitri smirked sideways, dodging his glare. Felix only ever saw him make this face when they’re alone, when the Boar was unhindered by societal principles. 

“Yes,” the Boar said thoughtfully. “I suppose you could put it that way as well. So you do not refute our capabilities together?”

“No.” He doesn’t look at him. The truth was the mock battle had been the best thrill he’s had since coming here. He’d finally been able to stretch his skills and show his worth to his peers; in the shadow of the beast, but that would never change. Despite Dimitri becoming the Boar and Felix’s own style being refined, the two of them still knew each other better on the battlefield than anywhere else. They could wordlessly communicate feints, when to defend and when to press onward. It’d been like that for a short time during the Western Rebellion before he’d gone completely mad and it had been like that earlier this morning at the mock battle. 

“I’ve always enjoyed fighting by your side,” Felix said. The fond look the Boar gives him almost made him stop there. “Just not the Boar’s,” he continued and watched his face drop. 

“Hrmph,” the Boar said, taking a drink from a glass he’d been holding.

In a flash Felix recalled the nights Dimitri had somehow over-drank himself, calling out to him as if he were Glenn, or in his moments of lucidity, trying to convince him the dead surrounded them, following them everywhere. Or worse yet, when he'd gone completely catatonic and he and Ingrid had to nurse him back without anyone knowing. 

“What’s wrong with you? Give me that,” Felix scolded and swiped the drink away from him with speed. Felix chugged down what turned out to be watered down spiced wine, intending on handing him back an empty glass but froze as his nose picked up something unexpected. It was icy, but not because the drink had been cooled, but more like the sinus-clearing force of air on a cold winter's day, after a snowstorm. If he hadn't been holding the glass cup he could have sworn it'd been carved out of the birch trees of Northern Faerghus.

_Why does this smell like Sylvain?_

“There’s no need to worry about me, Felix.”

“Sylvain give this to you?” he accused.

“Ah, oh...yes, how did you know?” The beast teased.

 _“‘How did I know?,’_ his scent is plastered all over this glass!”

“Oh, I was unaware.”

 _Unaware!?_ Felix sputtered, at a loss. _Wait a second,_ he thought, stomach dropping. _I haven’t seen Sylvain at all the past few hours. He isn’t...hiding nearby is he?_

“Where is he?” Felix said quietly, controlling his anger.

“Sylvain?”

“Who else?”

“He-erm, he...went-” the Boar stumbled, testing Felix’s patience. “I believe I saw him head off with a lovely girl from the Golden Deer.”

 _‘I believe?’_ Felix narrowed his eyes, not liking the tone the Boar had chosen. 

“I of course reminded him to maintain a proper display,” he continued. “Our House may have been the victors today, but we still have a reputation to uphold. Perhaps I should have stopped him, but you know Sylvain. He assured me all would be fine and he, uhm, passed me the drink on his way out.”

 _Too many words,_ Felix thought. _Like he’s trying to convince himself, not me._

“You’re lying,” Felix stated. 

The Boar shifted against the wall awkwardly, and a bit of movement caught Felix’s eye. He was hiding something behind his back. 

“What are you hiding, boar.”

His expression hardened at the accusation and for a moment Feilx thought he wasn’t going to give it up. “Oh, this?” He said nonchalantly, twisting his face into the disgusting pretense of a perfect prince as he pulled out _Sylvain’s_ jacket from behind him, completely flatlining Felix in the process. 

“Give me that,” Felix hissed, barely avoiding the deep growl of his alpha voice. He reached forward to snatch it from him, but the Boar danced it quickly out of the way, entwining it between his arms as he crossed them. 

His eyes flashed darkly, smirking as he addressed him. “I was actually on my way to return it.”

“Thought you said he went off with a _girl,”_ Felix sneered.

“Yes, which is why I know where he is and can return it succinctly.” 

“Liar.”

“I’m returning his jacket, Felix. Move, so I can be out of your way and you can go back to enjoying tonight’s festivities.” 

_Oh, no, you’re not getting away now._ Felix hadn’t noticed he’d subconsciously moved to block the alleyway. Good. It was an indication his instincts were better, sharper than when they were young teenagers.

“Please,” the Boar absentmindedly tacked on after half a pause. _Please? How dare you pretend this charade is needed in front of me._ The word alone sparked his ire. 

“Since when did you care about his well being!? You didn’t even notice how ill he was feeling on the march to Gronder! _I_ was the one who had to inform the Professor of it! You ignored him the whole way there and back despite him practically falling off his horse! You haven’t once been out to town with him, let alone the Blue Lions or _any of us_ , so what makes you think you’re fit to give it to him?” _What makes you fit to mark him? To lead?_ Was what Felix didn’t say, but he knew he’d hear the implication.

The Boar did not waver, but merely lowered his gaze to Felix.

“Felix, do not--”

Why are they yelling over a jacket?

_Fuck it._

_“Give it to me,”_ Felix growled, full force of his alpha command. 

The Boar’s eyebrows lift with a subtle curiosity not usually found on him, and he takes a minor step backwards. For the briefest of moments Felix’s heart lifted as the Boar’s ice blue eyes reassessed the alpha blocking his path. 

_I_ _am_ _strong enough._

But then the Boar sighed. He sounded _exhausted_ ; like Felix was a waste of time and space.

“I care for him as well and you would be doing me a great service, Felix. Please, step aside,” he said calmly and slowly.

Felix’s nostrils flared and he didn’t care how stupid it looked on other alphas, but he bared his teeth too. “I don’t fucking _care_ about _servitude, your Highness.”_

The Boar looked past his shoulder. “I must do this, please move.”

“It’s a fucking jacket, you don’t have to _do_ anything! Give it over.” If he’s angry enough (which he certainly was) he never has to acknowledge the irony in his arguments. 

“Felix, please. You know I hate doing it.”

“He doesn’t even want you,” he spat in desperation. He had no proof of it, sure. But right now, in this moment, he felt it in his gut. Sylvain was _his._

The Boar closed his eyes, sighing. _“Move,”_ he said with his alpha voice. It was barely a whisper, the word effortlessly riding the wave of hot warm leaving his mouth. 

Nevertheless it was a command from a King. His King.

And it was inescapable.

No matter how hard he tried Felix could no longer maintain eye contact. He looked away, gaze landing on his shoulder and he felt _pathetic_ for momentarily thinking that an achievement of sorts. He clenched his fist, short fingernails digging into the skin of his palm while he willed his feet to stay despite the danger senses blaring in his head. Rage seeped through every pore of his body while his brain battled between two thoughts:

_He’s your King._

_Move aside,_

_Move aside,_

_Move aside._

_He’s not his._

_Stand your ground,_

_Stand your ground,_

_Stand your ground._

He moved aside.

He looked at the ground, watching the Boar’s feet move past him as he cursed himself.

_I hate you. You’re weak, pathetic. A useless alpha. Unwanted, undeserving--_

“Thank you,” the Boar said through the skinned face of a prince, igniting Felix’s rage all over again. Byleth’s scolding from the previous moon had stuck with Felix, fused with his very own bones. He would not go down without a fight.

“I’m watching you,” Felix snipped back. 

The Boar chuckled. “As I would expect of a Fraldarius.”

_I hate you,_ he thought again, although this time less sure of who it was directed at. Himself, the Boar, or his ancestors. 

* * *

Glenn walked side-by-side with Dimitri down the long corridor to Sylvain’s room. At this distance he could hear the sizzle of the miasmic energy that had carved a crater into his shoulder. He found himself needing to move his head sideways when Glenn turned to speak, dodging one of the many arrows protruding from his face. Duscan fires licked up his face, casting no shadows on the walls around him, and from the angle he spoke from Dimitri could see through the melted skin straight into his mouth. 

He couldn’t look away. It was impolite not to look at someone while they were addressing you.

**_Please forgive him, your Highness. My brother will learn his place. Or you’ll force him to._ **

“I wish I hadn’t.” Felix was right. He was not fit to command anyone.

A blink of his eyes and Glenn was now in front of him, ghost subdued in form, walking backwards and holding the more pronounced head of his father. 

**_It matters not how you treat the runt. He is a Fraldarius and will support you regardless. It is in their blood._ **

“But he isn’t a-” He couldn’t bring himself to say the cruel word. Felix’s impressive assertion of dominance had given Dimitri pause. Not many were able to withstand his command as such. In fact, none were able to. Not even his own father. 

_I had no idea he still had longings for Sylvain,_ he thought with some guilt. If it were anyone but him Felix would have easily taken the jacket back. So if what his father was saying was true (and it always was) then by comparison, every alpha was a runt to him.

**_Ah, so you understand,_ ** his father said. **_Nothing stands up to a Blaiddyd. Not Hresvelg or Riegan. Not Rowe, or Fraldarius, and certainly_ ** **_not_ ** **_the Gautier omega._ **

* * *

_Knock-knock_

A quick, but loud knock rapped at his door. 

“Mmrff,” Sylvain muttered. He _so_ did not want to move to answer his door right now. “What!”

“It’s me, Sylvain. Dimitri. You, err, forgot your jacket?”

 _Shit._ He did not want Dimitri holding on to something that carried his scent so strongly.

_Just open the door, grab it, and crash back into bed._

“Alright! Hang on!” 

He arduously moved his limbs, trying for as long as possible to keep his head level, slinking out of bed until--

 _I can’t fucking answer the door crawling on my knees,_ he realized with a jolt. Anyone else he wouldn’t care, but Dimitri would misconstrue. “Ughh,” he groaned and got to his feet. The world rocked beneath him. It was like a second heat was trying to ignite in his body, but lacked the tinder to catch. Or, more accurately, trying to light ashes, having already expelled its fuel earlier. At least he could keep his eyes closed, being familiar enough with his own room. 

Leaning his head against the door frame, he opened the heavy sealed, “omega-safe,” door and reached his hand out hoping not to accidentally grasp anything indecent.

“Yeah? Jacket?” He moved his open hand around. 

“Sylvain!” Dimitri cried, and he felt his arms being taken and supported. “If you were feeling so unwell you should have said so!”

“I’m--” _okay,_ was what he was about to say before the crisp scent of rainfall, matched with the sharpened steel of a blade enveloped him. Dimitri’s alpha scent. And fuck did it ground him. 

“I’m extremely nauseous is all,” Sylvain said, finding himself freely admitting it. “If you could, uh, guide me back to bed maybe?” 

“But of course, Sylvain. Here, hold on to me.” He felt an arm scoop around his back to his side and Sylvain reluctantly leaned into Dimitri’s frame. 

It was shockingly pleasant. Which should not have been surprising, seeing as how he’d had his fifteen minutes of fun with Dimitri before, but this wasn’t exactly fun was it? 

His legs bumped the edge of his bed and Dimitri guided him down into it and even placed the covers over his body. He’d kick them off later. He always hated being hot when he slept. For now, the notion felt appreciated. 

“Here’s your jacket. Should I place it--?”

Sylvain reached a selfish hand out. “Just hand it to me.”

Dimitri obliged and Sylvain didn’t know how to respond to his own disappointment when the jacket didn’t have the alpha’s scent on it. 

“Well,” Dimitri said awkwardly, “Goodnight.”

_Dammit. Stupid body._

“Wait.”

“Mm?”

“This is going to sound stupid, even coming from me, but…” Sylvain said.

 _“Anything,”_ Dimitri reiterated. 

“It...helps. The nausea. Having an alpha around and uh…” He rubbed at his scent gland, trying to express his point, but Sylvain was unsure where Dimitri was looking. “Could you maybe rub my neck for a bit?”

“Of course Sylvain,” Dimitri said much closer to him than he’d been anticipating. A hand was placed on his scent gland, large fingers caressing against his skin. Instantly his stomach eased and muscles relaxed. He moaned from the sheer relief and caught himself.

“Don’t be trying anything funny now,” he teased seriously. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Sylvain. We’re friends. I would not dare to tarnish that.”

Miklan’s cruel laughter tickled at the back of his mind.

“Right...right.” 

An awkward silence fell between them after that and, through time, stretched into a sort of familiar comfort. His fingers maintained movement along his neck, the nearness of his wrist along with his scent calming his frayed, upset hormones.

A gentle touch connected with his eyebrow, and somehow Sylvain managed not to flinch. Shocking considering what he’d grown up with. It grazed past his temple and to his ear where Sylvain realized he’d been innocently brushing hair away. The hand remains, however, thumb gently rubbing over his cheek.

“Is there anything else you need?” The Prince hummed sweetly.

His heart rate nearly doubled and he swallowed deeply. He recalled the agonizing pain he’d been in, begging for an alpha to breed him just days prior. Begging for Felix.

Begging for Dimitri. 

He wanted to invite Dimitri into bed with him. To hold him until he fell asleep, but he knew himself. If Dimitri were to place his body anywhere against Sylvain’s right now it’d be game over. 

_It’s just the hormones,_

_It’s just the hormones,_

_It’s just the hormones._

“Just keep doing what you’re doing until I fall asleep. Then you can leave,” Sylvain said weakly. The hand was removed from his face. He instantly missed it.

“Of course,” Dimitri said once more and after a beat added, _“Sylvain.”_

His breathing shuddered, unsure how to feel about the possessive alpha voice. He opted to stay motionless, neither accepting it nor denying it. 

He awoke to an empty room with the covers still over him.

His stomach sunk.

Why was he disappointed? 

Oh, right. _Stupid fucking body._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The moving hiatus is finally over! My new place is fantastic and I finally got everything out and completely organized as of yesterday. Thank you all for hanging in with the wait :)
> 
> -This chapter's alternative name is "Claude checks out all the alphas"  
> -The absolute genre shift that would have been Claude's POV  
> -It's just an infomercial of Claude being all "I can't hold all these eaves!" and meta analyzing alphas
> 
> For those who are rejoining after the hiatus, I've turned this into a series! I've written two side stories within this world. The first, "Somewhat, Although not Altogether, Unexpected" is the explicit mating night between Ingrid and Dorothea, taking place right before chapter 16. The second, "Write this Down, Take me Down," is an (explicit) look into Yuri's unique relationship with his alpha, Bernadetta, taking place immediately after chapter 14. 
> 
> I'm open to suggestions for other non-sylvix focused one shots within this world, just let me know in a comment or dm me on twitter, @fearlesswindy1
> 
>  **Next Time:**  
>  Four Birds  
>  _“Goddess,”_ Sylvain cursed, hoping she’d heed his call and take his soul to its rightful place in the Eternal Flames. After an initial scan of the letter, the searing Flames would be a _comfort._  
>  His mother certainly had plenty of words for him.


	18. Four Birds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sylvain takes a walk and has some deep omega thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New tags regarding Sylvain
> 
> Chapter CWs:  
> -Implied self-harm  
> -Intrusive Thoughts  
> -Abusive Parents  
> -Emotional Manipulation  
> -Typical Sylvain bullshit
> 
> Shout out to [Elasmosaurus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elasmosaurus/pseuds/Elasmosaurus) for beta'ing!

#  **Chapter 18**

##  **—Four Birds—**

**—Academy Phase—The Flame in the Darkness—Red Wolf Moon—**

“Goddess,” Sylvain cursed, hoping she’d heed his call and take his soul to its rightful place in the Eternal Flames. After an initial scan of the letter, the searing Flames would be a _comfort_.

His mother certainly had plenty of words for him. _Doubt she means any of them,_ he thought, eyeing her particular (because it was _always_ deliberate) beginning word choice.

_“Pleasant.”_

Nothing was _ever_ pleasant with her. _Pleasantries_ were for backhanded insults, manipulations done on the deepest, disgusting empathic level; strategies she’d been taught by her own family to worm her way to a higher status. Once his parents had mated, Father had sicced her craft on unsuspecting nobles and even the King himself anytime his own brute force failed (few and far between). After Sylvain had presented as omega his training had been turned over to her. 

He hated the ease at which he’d learned it all. 

Cramming the letter into his jacket, he headed out of school grounds. _I’ll deal with this later. When no one’s around._ He’d feign towards the town, ensuring to stop and chat with a number of students on the way to secure his “whereabouts," and then take a harsh detour into the woods. He just needed to disappear sometimes, especially when it came to family matters, and thankfully he’d built up enough of a reputation no one questioned when he wouldn’t turn up for a day or so.

* * *

The air was crisp and fresh, a blessing compared to the day of bloodshed that had been the mock Battle of Eagle and Lion. He kicked the leaves covering the trail, wanting to smell the decay, and winced as the world shifted slightly. The nausea still lingered here and there, but at least was tolerable thanks to Dimitri. It’d been almost a week since the grand celebration feast, and he still didn’t know how to interpret his feelings regarding the gentle gesture Dimitri had granted; how’d he’d respected Sylvain’s boundaries.

Naturally, Sylvain took to avoiding him again instead of dealing with it. 

Because he’d only _mostly_ respected the boundaries Sylvain had laid out. And if Sylvain knew anything, the biggest plays were done with the smallest of manipulations. 

A touch of the cheek. Followed by a caring question. Lingering hands, while he pondered his answer. Lowering his defenses, or maybe even testing them. _Asshole, I couldn’t even walk._

Then his alpha voice. Subtle. Soft. Barely there, but nonetheless imposing. It was kingly. It was _kind._ It...should have had an effect on him. 

Four birds twittered in front of his path, lulling his meandering pace to a standstill as they danced in the open area. Two seemed to bicker with each other until one cut between, doling out loop-de-loops and not really paying attention. The two followed, seemingly forgetting about...whatever birds bicker about, but right before entering the treeline they separated. One flew high into the sky, until Sylvain could no longer track it while the rest entered the safety of the woods. 

Dimitri was also kind of an idiot when it came to romance. Perhaps Sylvain was merely overthinking it and he’d really just been a good close friend who had helped him through a tough bit.

 _Was the nausea,_ Sylvain thought, shaking his head, still mulling around Dimitri’s alpha voice. _Would have settled me if not for that._

Then again, if he hadn’t been nauseous none of that evening would have happened.

_I bet you’re broken._

Alarmed, Sylvain stopped once more. The intrusive thought hadn’t sounded like Miklan for once. He licked his lips, staring at the ground with his pulse beating too loud in his ears, trying to deny the feeling. But...it did _feel_ right. 

He’d been so close to getting what he wanted, so close to having Felix, and it had _fucking_ hurt. It _should_ have worked. _Why_ didn’t Felix want him? He’s the Gautier omega, Goddess dammit! Everyone wants him!

_You’re broken,_ the thought rooted itself inside him.

 **_‘You stink, of course you’re broken,’_ **Miklan jeered.

His body hadn’t been pissed enough at his embarrassing failure, screwing with his cycle. No, it had decided to fuck him over by also gifting him the worst heat he’s ever had. 

He really, really should have stayed in bed; convinced the Professor he wasn’t well enough to participate. But his father would have had a conniption if he’d sat out due to _feeling faintly._ He’d been tired, woozy, and battered, but more importantly _empty._ He felt like a shell of himself, and _that_ was saying something considering the masks he wore. Thankfully the Professor had noticed and swapped him to watch over their base camp. Nobody had even come close to invading the Blue Lion territory, the Professor and Dimitri opting for a dual frontal assault, but that hadn’t been the problem. 

It’d been the smell of blood. 

The dry leaves on the ground grew in mass as his path took him deeper into the forest, past the common paths people treaded. The Red Wolf Moon held many memories for Sylvain, the most significant being the time Felix had saved him from the boar charge during the fated hunting trip in Gautier territory. 

Felix always reminded him of autumn. 

Felix _smelled_ like autumn. 

But Sylvain had bled that day, fallen from a tree he’d scrambled up to get away, and because he was _broken,_ his fantasies of Felix were never right unless the tang of iron touched the air. It’s why he kept Felix’s old torn shirt that had staved his bleeding wound despite it having lost most of his scent ages ago. 

It’s why right now he was picking at the scabs on his arms where he’d torn at his skin. 

If anyone asked about it, it could easily be written off as the craze of his heat, although it would still unnerve most. He usually kept it to his thighs, but...well, he _had_ been in the thick of a _terrible_ heat. He’d torn at nearly every inch of his body, the pain both distracting him from and fueling the need to be filled. 

_Empty,_ Sylvain recalled the battle. _So very empty._

His body violently taking it out on him.

And then the battle started in the crisp autumn fields of Gronder, and blood was spilt. 

It was like his heat had never ended. 

The trail he walked bent around, looping back to the town. Whistling a tune to attract the attention of any possible people nearby, he stepped off the path, diving fully into the woods surrounding the mountain base. No one came to his charming tune, and he let the song fade. He was alone. His face relaxed, jaw unclenching, and his posture sunk as he kept his eyes to the ground. 

_He was alone._

Idly he wondered what would have happened had Felix been nearby during the battle and not cutting a path to the Black Eagle camp.

He sighed, knowing he probably would have gotten a novel-sized letter from his mother instead of the two page one currently tucked in his jacket. He could read it now he supposed, no one was nearby…

He kept walking. 

The woods eventually opened up into the valley, Garreg Mach high above him, with the Airmid River cutting beneath the bridge to the Cathedral. The river was wide here, many waterfalls feeding into it from the various Oghma springs. _A good a place as any,_ Sylvain thought, hand twitching towards the letter.

He bent down to pick up a small flat rock instead. A wide river meant he could skip some stones and he proceeded to spend the next half hour? Hour? Didn’t matter--collecting good skipping stones and walking along the riverbank. 

Finally feeling like he had a decent collection he took off his shoes and rolled up his breeches to wade into the water. He tossed the first stone a couple times in his hand, feeling the weight of it. Back when they were younger, well before they’d all presented, Glenn had taught them how to skip rocks at Lake Cenis in the bordering fields between Fraldarius and Galatea. Felix had cried because he hadn’t immediately been great at it, and Glenn had spent most of the time tutoring his discouraged brother. Dimitri had never succeeded in skipping any rocks at all so it had been Sylvain and Ingrid who had competed for the most skips. His record was seven. 

Turning the stone in his hand, feeling the rough edges, Sylvain eyed the water and gave his wrist a few practice flicks. _This could probably go for four skips, easily. Five if I get the spin right._ Crouching lower, giving wide swings to his shoulder now, he went for the toss. _One-two-and--_

_ploop!_

The stone sunk straight into the water. Zero skips. 

“Okay, fine! I’ll read your letter!” Sylvain bemoaned to the heavens. He waded back to the edge of the water to sit down. 

Unfolding the lightly perfumed letter, the vaguely cinnamon-like essence upsetting his stomach from her association, he scanned its contents again. The eloquent cursive sprawled the page, each letter perfectly placed with precise margins and--

He should really just get on with it.

> _My dearest, and most noble son,_

_Right. Because your other was a Crestless fuck-up._

> _Pleasant words of a Blue Lion victory at the annual mock battle of Eagle and Lion reached us here in the far edges of the Kingdom very recently. I still recall how your father was able to single-handedly, through strength and lance alone, defeat Count Bergliz during his tenure at the Officer’s Academy. From what I hear, your studies of the black magik arts aided you tremendously in the battle. I’m confident your victory will be one of many grand tales for you to tell to your children one day._

Sylvain translated it as he read. _Why didn’t you message us to tell us of your victory? You know your father only loved to tell his story at least five times over to anyone with a pulse._ The old usage of the word “magik” was clearly on purpose, almost too obvious even for her. _Why on earth are you studying magic? We did not send you there to become a mage. Mages don’t make history here in the north. We expect you to be focusing on your skill as a lancer. Demand to switch courses or we will escalate._

> _We recently had the honor of receiving the most caring and thoughtful letter from His Highness, heir to the throne, Prince Dimitri. The long, intertwined history our noble House shares with the throne was an illustrious one to mate into, my dear son, one I am proud to represent and to have heard directly from our Prince demonstrates great repute._

_We got an_ _unprompted_ _letter from Dimitri. Whatever you are up to, son, it will not work. Your father’s ties to the throne are greater than yours and the current regent enjoys my company._ Well at least Dimitri had actually followed through and written his father in regards to his whole “mate for love” thing. Obviously they were displeased with this or else she wouldn’t have written. There was still over a page left, and honestly he didn’t even know if he had to read the rest. He knew where this was leading.

> _His Highness wrote fondly of you; of the everlasting friendship the two of you are forging at the Officer’s Academy. It fills my heart with warmth to know of the strong bonds you two will carry with you for the rest of your lives. It is a foundation from which many opportunities blossom beautifully from, much like the duty granted to your ancestor, by King Loog himself, to protect the realm from outside intruders. This noble history, one that has granted our family continued privilege, was all thanks to the friendship forged between Margrave Conrad Johann Gautier and King Loog Willhelm Blaiddyd._

_Make him fall in love with you, you sack of shit, or else--_ Sylvain rolled his eyes. _Or else our family’s status amongst the Crown will diminish,_ was the implication. As if possessing the majority of the country's militia wasn’t enough. Their Crest had to be linked to royal blood as well. _No, no, wait._ Their _Crest_ had to be _bred_ by the King as well.

> _Both your father and I are proud of the omega you are flourishing into and of the abilities you are honing during your own tenure at the Officer’s Academy. I know so very personally how your delayed entrance affected you, but it is my utmost hope you see the value in the time you are able to spend there now._

_You are a disappointment, but have the opportunity now to use the skills I’ve taught you. Stop wasting your efforts with academics. You are there solely because Dimitri is, don’t waste this._

> _I cherish each and every letter from you, my dear son, and look forward to your correspondence._

_Accomplish this soon._

> _With all the love my heart possesses,_

_None of which is for you,_

> _Margravine Hemma Ide Gautier_

A sickening thought struck him that his parents would _actually_ be proud of the nauseated evening he had had with Dimitri. 

And with that he promptly crumbled the letter and chucked it into the river. 

It skipped twice before the current took it and slowly sunk into the water. Sylvain buried his head into his hands, attempting to void his brain of thoughts to calm his nerves. When that failed he dug his nails deep into his skull, pain dulling the thoughts instead. And when _that_ failed he collapsed backwards onto the ground. 

“It’s no use,” he said to the sky. At least she hadn’t sent him his ceremonial mating sheath along with the letter. Not that he would have worn it around the Academy had she actually done so. _Goddess, how on earth would Dimitri react to seeing me with that?_

He either thought Dimitri always had a dagger on him ready to slam inside his sheath the instant it’d appear on his hip or he had blissfully forgotten about the stupid Faerghus mating ritual. After all, he had said he’d given a girl a dagger once and looked absolutely dumbstruck when Sylvain had confronted him on it.

He gave it a fifty-fifty.

 _“Ughhhhh,”_ he screamed into his hands. _Why am I fighting this so much? Is it even worth fighting? Should I just...give up? Submit and present myself, ass high, to his Royal Highness?_ Even as he thought it he wanted to gag.

 _Dimitri isn’t a terrible guy, though,_ he thought, hating how his mother’s words had sunk into his psyche despite knowing he’d been manipulated. _He’s kind, sweet, gentle, and handsome-_

_-and will completely bore me...or worse…_

There was this darker side to Dimitri that scared him. It wasn’t the berserker rage Felix foolishly implied with every “boar” he spat in his direction--Dimitri would always be too soft for that; it was like the quiet, seething rage Sylvain had seen in his brother. A tasting of that, just a small morsel, lived inside the Prince, Sylvain was sure of it. It had only come out that single time, at the Grand Tourney two years prior, but Sylvain knew it’s face. It was one that hissed, _how dare you_ , along with a promise to be shown later-and very personally-the consequences. 

Not that he expected gentle Dimitri to do anything, he couldn’t even imagine what kind of consequences the Prince would dish out to him. He’s been nothing but apologetic since the event.

_Except…_

_Except._

It was a question mark, a grey, fuzzy area of uncertainty. And once mated, he’d be dancing on glass shards once more. Breathing would no longer come easy, irregardless of the season. Instead he’d have to weather King Dimitri with the tight, weariness inside him hidden behind the power of his smile. He couldn’t afford to outright reject any advance from the Prince, his future King and likely mate, in fear of a _potentiality._

_But maybe it wouldn’t be like that?_

Sylvain sat up, his dividing thoughts practically bruising his mind from whiplash. He looked across the clear river, seeing the four birds had returned-or maybe they were just four new birds, he certainly couldn’t tell. They were chasing each other in some bird-game of tag above the open water reminiscent of the ones he, Felix, Ingrid, and Dimitri used to play in the capitol. The surface, with it’s lazy current, reflected the rapid movement, white clouds serving as backdrop and Sylvain couldn't decide which view was more captivating.

The sudden urge to throw a stone overwhelmed him. Without much thought he grabbed and tossed a stone upwards, catching it without looking and gave a quick flick of the wrist.

_Skit--_

_Skit--_

_Skit--_

_ploop!_

The noise alerted the small gathering of birds, dispersing in fear of a predator. Sylvain watched with intense curiosity, observing the various flight patterns. He was hoping they’d come back to distract his mind once more while simultaneously stupidly wishing he too, could also fly away from his problems. Instead, a beautiful Blue Faerghan soared across the white clouds, beak bright yellow with the instantly identifiable white and black tail, scanning the ground and likely looking for some nuts. The northern reaches of the Kingdom were too cold for it by now, the typical southern migration making this an unusual sight for Sylvain this time of year. He couldn’t take his eyes off it’s beauty, and it turned it’s head to look _right_ back at him.

Unexpectedly, the blue bird dove towards him. For a split second he thought he had somehow pissed off Faerghus’s national bird, but it veered left and perched mere meters away from him in the shallow water. It started bathing, feather’s catching the sunlight, its blackish-blue color occasionally glinting green. 

Slowly, almost as if it’s presence had given permission, the other song birds returned. A collection of around ten arrived, bathing and drinking, chirping without a care for Sylvain’s existence. Just as he preferred.

Perhaps, they could talk, he realized. Maybe even one day he’d be willing to share as much with Dimitri as he had with Felix. 

It’d be easier to do so once Felix wasn’t around him so much. It just felt so natural to open up to him, what with his perceptive amber eyes and his propensity to tolerate bullshit at a cold, icy negative degree temperature. He needed that. _To be seen,_ he recalled as Ingrid had told him, understanding now. He’d always gravitate towards Felix so long as he was around. But once they graduate...

_Idiot, he’s going to be Dimitri’s right hand, of course he’s going to be around all the time._

_But their relationship has been strained for some time hasn’t it?_

_Will be strained even more with the Queen pining after him._

_Would he even want to be around me when I’m Queen?_

_We could have an affair._

_Would I even have time?_

_No, of course not. You’ll be stuffed to the brim with royal pups, and never his._

_He’ll hate you for it_

_He already hates you._

**_‘Be a good omega and do the one job you have,’_ **his father’s words boomed inside his head, abruptly ending his spiraling thoughts and burning his neck. He let out a frustrated noise.

The blue bird took off with a shot, the rest following.

Except for one, he noticed. It looked longingly to the small pack that had taken off, but stayed perched on a rock in the water. _Are its wings broken or something?_ Sylvain felt a pull of compassion to this small bird. _Why doesn’t it just go and join the others? Or does it want to be alone?_ He thought with a knowingness. _Like me?_

Before he could dwell on the similarities between him and this small, pathetic woodland bird, it took off, flying south where the dim reflection of the moon hung low in the blue sky. 

He shook his head.

_I’ve been spending too much time trying to woo Marianne._

* * *

He slept in the woods that night. There was a slight concern the Knights of Seiros would find him on patrol, but he managed to sleep through the night, peacefully without disruption. The lack of people around, the lack of _smells,_ had centered his mind and relaxed his hormones. He believed he _finally_ could be over the heat sickness. 

He’d also made his decision.

Felix caught him returning from his overnight slumber in the woods as he was heading towards the bathhouse. Because of course he did. 

“Where were you?” He hissed.

“Hey, hey, easy, man. I haven’t missed class yet, no need to fret. Just spent the evening in town, is all.”

“I’ve been looking all over for you. Who were you with?” Felix spat. 

Sylvain blinked. He usually never inquired further than that. Always bit his tongue and walked off in a tizzy anytime he implied he’d slept with someone.

He shrugged. “Ah, come on, _you know.”_ Felix stood dormant except for the slight flare of his nostrils. Clearly that wasn't enough. “Snagged me a nice alpha cutie down at Gunther’s, I think she had an omega sister if you’re interested.”

Felix’s eyes narrowed as he talked. He looked him up and down, searching for something. 

“You checking me out? Jeeze, Felix, thought you made it clear after Dorothea’s thing you weren’t--” 

“Tch.” Felix reached out towards his face, and Sylvain jerked back slightly. He examined Felix closely, wondering if he was able to pull him in when a hand grazed his hair. Sylvain’s heart dropped into his stomach. He swallowed it into an easy smile, hiding behind his mask. 

“Whatcha doing there, pal?” Sylvain asked, confused. Felix’s hand retracted, and with it a small handful of leaves. 

Felix looked at him critically, holding a leaf up between their faces. 

“Heh,” Sylvain said, scratching at the back of his neck. “Things got a little dodgy when I left. Sort of had to make my exit through a window and tree.” It was an easy lie, mainly because he has literally had to do that before.

“Hrmph. Whatever,” Felix said, dusting off his hands.

_Odd. He isn’t...mad? This might make things easier._

“And we have training today, not class. Take your bath and don’t be late. You smell like mud,” Felix instructed then promptly turned without further discussion. 

Sylvain smelled himself. He did indeed, smell like mud.

Later that evening, Sylvain returned to his room to see a letter had been slid under his door. Not needing to check the wax seal (it was obviously from Felix), he opened it up, seeing it’d been scrawled quickly and Felix hadn’t even bothered to address or sign it like they normally do.

> _I know you’re lying to me. Why?_

_Shit._ Because _of course_ he noticed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Sylvain and Marianne actually have the sweetest support and if neither weren't so freaking depressed and coping so differently they would have been great together  
> -I like to imagine he's seen her hanging out with birds mostly, so he's taken to trying to do the same to get her attention and ends up communing with nature instead  
> -Writing the letter from the Margravine made me hate myself so I hope ya'll hate her 
> 
> **Next Time:**  
>  The Fires that weren't  
> "Hey By we've got to go. Now," the Capitan said ugently.  
> "I'll go grab my things and alert the others," Felix said to the Professor, anxious for a battle.  
> "Absolutely not. You're staying," she replied. Felix growled at her, displeased. He _needed_ this, how dare she-  
> The Capitan placed a firm hand on his shoulder, nearly knocking him off balance. "You're too much a liability. No telling how long we'll be gone. We can handle this. Enjoy the rut in peace, kid."


	19. The Fires That Weren't

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felix isn't having his rut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's lightly E rated, enjoy!
> 
> CWs:  
> -Blood  
> -Sudden use of force  
> -Various Felix ships
> 
> Shout out to [Elasmosaurus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elasmosaurus/pseuds/Elasmosaurus) for beta'ing!

#  **Chapter 19**

##  **—The Fires That Weren't—**

**—Academy Phase—The Flame in the Darkness—Red Wolf Moon—**

“I want to take more reason classes,” he said curtly to the Professor. She was on her way through campus and Felix had spotted her fortuitously. He’d been searching for her for an hour now and just as he had given up to go eat she of course had decided to show her face. 

“Thought those were a waste of time?” she said, not missing a beat. Her stride was long, too long. She’s going somewhere in a hurry. He’ll make her listen to him though. He _has_ to. 

Has no other option to. 

“Changed my mind.”

“Nothing to do with Sylvain being in those lectures, is it?”

“No,” he said succinctly, but felt the distinct heat of a blush hitting his ears. She was, of course, infuriatingly correct. Sylvain never responded to his note and has since taken to avoiding him, always with Mercedes or Dorothea and never alone for Felix to confront him on the matter. He’s lying to him, he _knows_ he’s lying to him. Asshole smelled perfectly normal returning from “town” and something about the way he was holding himself just felt...off. Forced. 

And for some reason, at the time, a previously inconsequential memory had been pulled from the vaguest corner of his mind. It was of the only occasion Miklan had accompanied his family to the Capitol for Faerghus’s Founding Day. Felix had talked with Sylvain before the parade to plan what they’d do afterwards, and then they had observed it from opposite sides of the streets with their respective families. Afterwards he’d been distantly, yet overly, present. Responding to everything, but lacking substance to anything he said and never really participating in their games with Ingrid and Dimitri. 

He got like this sometimes, Felix knew, and for the longest time Felix merely brushed it aside. _That’s just what Sylvain is like._

He knew better now; it had nothing to do with being an omega and everything to do with being a Gautier and there was nothing Felix could do to fix it. So he’d listen, and he would write. He had made sure his presence was known and that he was there, and wanted to be there for him, but Sylvain would always tell him. Would always write.

Sylvain’s not writing now. 

And all he could think about was that damn jacket in the Boar’s hands.

He’d been twitchy since not receiving an expected reply, heel bouncing all through lecture whilst he stared daggers at both Sylvain and the Boar, alternating between the two from the back of the classroom. He hadn’t noticed the noise he’d been making until Petra shot him a sharp look.

His anxieties were usually best soothed with sword in hand, but for once Felix found himself with little desire to head to the training ground. Sylvain wouldn’t be there. He was never there.

And he needed to find Sylvain. No. He needed to be _by_ Sylvain. Because he hasn’t answered his note, and once he answered _why_ then Felix could go back to feeling like a normal person again. 

Nevermind that Felix was getting closer and closer to cutting down anything in his path so he could shove him against a wall, pin him down and--

_Saints._

His mind supplied an image far more indecent than Felix was prepared for. He bit his lip and exhaled sharply, ridding the inappropriate image from his mind. He’s walking next to his professor for Seiros’s sake. 

They’d been walking in silence for a short distance now, she was clearly not buying his poor excuse.

“Seeing Annette in the previous battle,” he said, trying to supply a better reason. “Being able to take down enemies at a distance, I can see its practicalities. You’ve already shown me the way to master elemental lightning, and I suppose it's challenging for me to ignore that now.”

All technically not a lie, just one that he hadn’t planned on admitting and dividing his time on. But if it got rid of his larger, more obnoxious Sylvain-shaped distraction then sure, he could pick up magic. 

Professor Byleth stopped dead in her tracks and turned to face him. Her large eyes and blank face assessed him impassively, scrutinizing every word he had spoken. He met her dissection head on, never one to shy away from her intense, ancient-seeming gazes unlike some of his peers. 

“Hm,” she said. 

“So you’ll allow it?”

“I did not say that,” she said with a slight head tilt. Felix wasn’t sure if she was curious or disappointed by his sudden interest. 

“What do I need--” He was cut off by the Captain jogging up to them.

“There you are By, we’ve got to go _now,”_ he said urgently.

“What’s going on?” she asked, but Felix was already a step ahead of her. Their mission to check in on the mysterious illness at the village of Remire must have escalated. Perhaps their supply lines of medicine were under attack, or worse, a group of bandits who thought they could harass a village of sick people were laying waste to it as they speak. 

“I’ll go grab my things and alert the others,” Felix said to the Professor, anxious for a battle. Perhaps this would finally and properly distract him away from Sylvain’s absence. Or, more devilishly, he could inform Sylvain last and follow him to the stables as they got their gear and confront him then.

“Absolutely not. You’re staying,” she replied. 

_What!?_ Felix growled at her, displeased. He needed this, how dare she refuse--

The Captain placed a firm hand on his shoulder, nearly knocking him off balance. “Look at you, kid. You’re too much a liability. No telling how long we’ll be gone. We can handle this just fine.” He patted him a few times on the back, nearly winding him. “Enjoy the rut in peace, kid.”

“Rut!? No, I--” His rut wasn’t due for another five weeks. What the fuck was he on about?

“You’re off roster, Felix,” the Professor said in a tone that left little to argue. _Fine._ _I’ll just sneak into camp later and by then it’ll be too late to send me back._

“And if anyone catches you trying to sneak into camp there _will_ be consequences.”

_Shit. Goddess-bewitched mind reader._

Captain Eisner threw his head back to laugh. “Damn By, I nearly didn’t recognize your voice there for a second. You really are a natural at this teaching thing.” The Professor looked to her father, face ever nondescript. The Blade Breaker’s praise didn’t come by easily, and for it to simply wash over her head like nothing _and_ for it to have been at his expense; Felix found himself growling once more, low and threatening. _What the fuck._

“Right,” the Captain said, annoyed. “That’s enough of you, now. Come on By.”

Severely outranked, Felix was helpless in watching them leave without him.

* * *

Angry, he had little left to do besides head back to his room. By the time he’d traversed across campus, word had gotten out. Details were popping up here and there as he passed conversations and he willingly had to ignore them. He couldn’t get himself invested, couldn’t allow himself to face these _consequences_ the Professor had alluded to, not at the risk of it reaching his father.

People stared as he walked by. He was clearly walking in the wrong direction and even Ashe tried to ask him where he was going.

He ignored him, but it still stung. There’s people in danger and he should be heading out with everyone. He’s not about to have his rut. The Captain’s wrong. He’s getting benched for no Goddess-damned reason! 

_And yet you listen._

The door frame rattled loudly as he slammed the door to his room shut, noise likely echoing down the hall. Alone, and in the privacy of his room finally, he allowed himself a frustrated yell.

_It’s all his fault! If he hadn’t--_

_CLASH-BANG!_

His desk chair collided with the wall, thrown in frustration when he realized he was unsure of who exactly he was referring to.

_If Sylvain hadn’t--_

_If Dimitri hadn’t--_

_If_ **_I_ ** _hadn’t--_

He leaned over his desk, papers crumbling in his hand as his fingernails dug into the wood. He’s not having his rut. He should be out heading to Remire with the others. He wouldn’t be having his rut until the Grand Ball, a happy accident that would allow him to skip it without questioning. 

So, no, he’s not having his rut.

_If Sylvain hadn’t kissed me._

He couldn’t be having his rut.

_If Dimitri hadn’t returned his jacket._

It’d be impossible for him to be having his rut.

_If I hadn’t been so--_

_“Yeeeeee-ah!”_ The papers in his hand are torn apart, all items on his desk thrown off in a single sweep of his arm as he shouted. Papers went flying in the short vicinity, the unlit candle hit the wall with a low thud and broke in two with the drip plate clamouring to the ground after it. His water glass hit the dresser beside the desk and shattered on the ground, water spilling onto his notes and assignments. He looked to see if they were salvageable, but his eyes caught something more important: the large bulge in his pants. If he hadn’t been so fucking fueled by the rage inducing rejection and denial, he might have noticed earlier. It’s challenging to ignore now.

He’s painfully hard.

He’s having his rut.

“Fffff-UCK!” Quickly he stumbled to his door and bolted the magical lock designed for barring him inside until his rut was over. The faintly blue-gold pattern eschewing across the door, securing the safety of others from him for the next five days was like a slap to his face and he instantly realized his mistake. There was no way for him to open that door until the magical timer ran out.

“Shhhhhhit!” He tried to open the door before the magic took hold. “PETRA!” he shouted. As his designated beta guardian she was in possession of his unique unlocking rune. 

“PETRA!” he tried again.

He hadn’t eaten.

He had no food.

The only water he had was now soaking into his homework.

His room wasn’t prepared in the slightest for this. Usually he’d store his chair somewhere else, all smaller items not bolted to the ground would get put away, and his bedding would be sent off to laundry early to avoid shredding them to pieces. 

“Petra,” he groaned, knowing it was fruitless. She was off with the others on the mission by now, probably learning of his absence too late. 

He groaned, unclasping his sword belt and dagger frog on his thigh. Ingrid usually held onto his weapons, but for now he slid them under his bed, hoping his stupid rut brain wouldn't find them. _May Sothis guide my furniture to the heavens above to rest in pieces._

The urge was already taking him as he fell to his knees, crawling to the bottom drawer of his dresser. If he wanted to come out of this unscathed he’d need--he’d need--he’d--

He flipped over onto his back, unlacing his breeches. _Reeee--!_ They tore as he shoved them down enough to release himself to the air. 

Both his hands went to work on his bulging cock. If he could get himself to climax quick enough, he might have the wherewithal to set himself up better. 

Petra was already on his mind, her name on his lips, and her lips desiring to be around his cock in his mind’s eye. His feet kicked out beneath him, searching for better traction until his shoulders hit the edge of the dresser, allowing him to plant a foot on the ground. Immediately he started bucking upwards into his hands, her mouth, visualizing her nude body atop him.

 _“I know plenty of omegas who’d pick you,”_ Claude's voice trailed inside his mind. Felix shivered as if he had said it along his neck, hairs standing on end. He’s licking at his scent gland, grinding against his hip whilst Petra continued to moan on the full length of his cock.

His knot wasn’t forming yet, he needed more. “Damn it! Nahh-h!” If only he hadn’t been such an idiot, he could have had at least the cool slick oil rubbing against himself. Instead, the large vial of it rested somewhere in the drawer of his nightstand, across the room, and there wasn’t any chance his body would allow him to move before spilling himself.

He licked his lips, turning his head to the imaginary Claude at his side and locked lips with him. To him, they’re rough and greedy, Claude’s intense desire reflecting Felix’s own. He’s never seen Claude’s body, but knowing he was an archer and skilled flyer, his body had to be severely toned. Hands trailed down his muscular back as he continuously bucked into Petra’s mouth until he had a firm hold on his ass. A calloused hand grabbed his, and guided him to the slick between Claude’s cheeks. Felix growled and bit down hard on Claude’s lip--omega should know his place, the tempo wasn’t his to set--and a rush of blood entered his mouth. 

“Nnnga-hh,” he moaned from the taste.

 _“Alpha,”_ Claude groaned, submitting to him.

 _“Fe-lix,”_ a teasing, sing-song voice captured his mind. His hand pumped harder around the slowly growing knot at the base with the other clasped around the head as he turned his head to the image of Annette. Her voice carried a melody without words, Felix’s mind too far gone to even attempt to feign her creative lyrics. Her small hands danced around her body, glowing faintly with the magic she’s so skilled with, captivating him in a way that somewhere in the back of his mind knew Annette would never have the grace to achieve in real life. Slowly, her clothes were being removed.

Petra’s lips come off his cock with a pop, her lips beaming with the smile he loved to see. “How is your time of great desire?”

 _“Alpha,”_ Claude whined beside him. 

_“Felix,”_ Annette moaned. 

A different voice cut through the fantasy he’d set up for himself, like a blade slicing through a sack of flour, interrupting it in its entirety. _“That’s cute.”_ He could already picture his crooked smile and golden eyes up close, his breath on his lips, begging to be kissed.

“Omega!” Felix gasped, responding to Sylvain’s voice inside his head. 

_“You think these fools are good enough for you?”_ Sylvain chuckled. 

In a flash they’re all gone from his mind’s eye, replaced by Sylvain laying on his bed, lazily palming himself. _“Only I could ever satisfy you.”_

“Yes, ngh! Sylvain!” He’s close, just a little more, just needs to imagine Sylvain on top of him, clenching his slick hold around his cock, moaning his name over and--

 _“Shame you can’t have him,”_ The Boar, with his exposed sharp canines and flashing eyes, said cavalierly. Sylvain was no longer in his bed. Instead, Felix had been transported back in time. He stood at a distance from the decorated outdoor pavilion surrounded by the many tents of the Grand Tourney. Center of the dance floor was Dimitri spinning and twirling Sylvain around, both laughing with merriment and joy. His mind focused in on them, watching as Sylvain was dipped, and with another blink the Boar mounted Sylvain underneath the hung lanterns of the dance floor.

“NOOO!” Felix righted himself and leapt off the floor, lunging forward, claws and teeth bared with the intent to kill.

* * *

The growl of his stomach woke him. He went to move, but several pains stabbed him at once: an empty stomach contracting in on itself, his right knee cap shooting something sharp, his entire left arm pulsating, and his head throbbing worse than everything else combined. He went to moan, but found the noise stuck in his throat. Great, he has a sore throat too. 

Tongue working around his dry mouth, smacking to collect what little moisture existed there, he slowly brought himself back to consciousness. Opening his eyes, he saw darkness and--oh, hey, also the source of his head pain. He’d somehow fallen asleep (or more likely passed out from sheer rage) with his head situated in an accidental vice between his bed frame and nightstand. He planted his hand on the top of the nightstand to hoist himself up and had to do a double take on his arm.

It was...fluffy? Wait no. He blinked several more times. His left arm was covered in pink feathers and examining his body further, he saw more feathers stuck to his body. Some white, most pink, and a few...blood red. Wiping some away from his arm, he was delighted to see he had somehow managed to put one of his thickened leather gloves from the bottom drawer on at some point, but _only_ one. 

“Seiros and all four Saints,” he muttered hoarsely, seeing his own teeth marks on his arm. _What am I? Fourteen? Fucking immature._ He went to sit more upright, but felt a thousand sharp quills poking into his skin. One by one he picked them out, only having the energy to focus on one task at a time. The most bloodied ones were on his chest where, he surmised, his ungloved hand had gone to town gashing his frustration into his skin. He pulled the long quill of a feather that had managed to submerge itself inside his pec.

Moving his fingers, articulating through three simple gestures, he attempted to summon the small healing spell his father had taught him when self-injury had presented itself to be a problem. It was better for Felix to be able to heal himself of any damning scars than for a healer who could potentially spread rumors or (Saints forbid) his actual father to come down to aid him. The small healing circle formed and instantly zapped Felix of all his energy. It sputtered out, and he barely had enough time to rest his head on the mattress this time before he passed out.

* * *

He awoke again, but this time it was dusk and his stomach growled loudly as if to chastise him about being such an idiot for trying magic in a weakened state. The rest of his pains still existed, but paled in comparison to his hunger and thirst. He has no idea how many days have passed, how long he’s gone without the minimal sustenance the body needed during a rut. The stench of sweat, cum, and blood filled his nostrils but his instincts keenly ignored these in favor of the food he was picking up. His eyes scanned, letting his nose guide them and spotted the basket of bread and pitcher of water situated on the floor by the crack of the door. 

_Petra._

That meant they were back from the mission. _Is Sylvain okay?_ An urge to go out and find him pulsed through his veins again, but the howling need of thirst sat his alpha ass against the wall so he could chug the entire pitcher. Once that was through, he ripped through the loaves of bread and assessed his room with what little daylight remained. 

His pillow no longer existed, that much was clear. Whether because he had fucked it into oblivion or torn it to shreds, he had no clue. His blanket was in a similar state, minus the feathers, with the blue fabric laying in odd places instead. His desk chair was missing two legs and the back had been chipped, but at least the seat was salvageable. The grounds manager shouldn’t be too upset with him when he takes it in to be repaired.

A golden button rested on the ground close to him, clueing him in to look around for his clothing. Various bits of them were strewn about, mostly in pieces. He recalled tearing his breeches, but it looked like he had taken them off before his shoes and the inner seam by the hem was completely fucked. His vest had made it through mostly unscathed, missing a few buttons, but his shirt was done for; stained with blood and ripped apart not just at the seams. Thankfully most of his clothing could be easily replaced or repaired. His shoes were another matter. He hadn’t the allowance to replace them and Indech’s insight be damned, he wouldn’t to write his father for a new pair. Not after he’d just boasted about managing his ruts better. 

Searching around with bread held in his mouth, he found one at the windowsill and saw the glass pane had a crack that hadn’t been present before. He must have chucked it there. The other he found inside the bottom drawer of his dresser next to the second glove he never got on. Both blessedly seemed undamaged thanks to the fine craftsmanship. 

Delicately he put on a new pair of drawers and breeches, not bothering to lace them up. He needed healing and was unwilling to try again after passing out the first time. With food and water in him, he could feel just how weak his body was. Lacking all his usual protections and mental preparedness, this unexpected rut had run through him brutally, akin to the times of his youth. It had taken him almost killing a beta servant entering his chambers for his father to take his woes seriously. Once he had, though, he’d poured every resource he could to fix his unruly runt of a son. 

The magical barrier on his door was still up. 

_Bang Bang_

“Petra! You out there!?”

After a beat the door opened a sliver. “Felix!”

“Come in, and close the door. I don’t want anyone overhearing.”

She does so, and her eyes darted around to the dramatic scene around them, but if she had any thoughts on them, she did not express them. He’s too exhausted to hide his smile, but it was another reminder why he liked and trusted her. 

“As your beta guardian, I feel that I should be apologizing, Felix.” She places her fist above her heart and bows. “We were down the mountain when I had become aware to the reasoning for your absence. The villagers were in dire need for our assistance and I could not return until today. The Professor also expressed guilt for your--hrm--your--ah, predicament once she became aware you were in no time to prepare yourself for the time of great desire. Are you…” she paused not in effort to find a word, but to choose her wording carefully, “...in need of assistance now that I am here to provide it.”

“Food. Water. Take down the barrier, I’m in the right state of mind. A basin so I can clean up and send for Maneula, I need healing and I’m too tired to do it myself.” She straightened, and bowed once more before departing. Something about it sat wrong with him, the way she felt at his beck and call. Once, the way she had bowed to him had filled him with the bravitas of a ruler. Now, he wondered what he had done to deserve it.

Felix managed to find a fresh candle to light while he waited. She returned rather quickly with the water and said Ashe would be bringing him a small feast shortly. 

“Stay,” he said, sensing her leave. “Everyone safe?”

“Yes, all of the Blue Lions managed to make it back to Garreg Mach unharmed. That cannot be said for all of the villagers, however.”

“I should have been there,” he mumbled while cleaning his skin with a wet rag.

“The time of great desire waits for no one, Felix. It’s call must be heeded, as the Great Ones demand it. My regret is I could not have aided you in your time of need.” She bowed once more. 

“Why do you do that?” She looked at him quizzically. “Bow. I’m not your superior. You’re a princess, Petra, you shouldn’t be bowing to anyone.”

“This is not a bow, Felix. It is a gift...and it is acception, no, accep _tance_ \--” she giggled, “--and it is full of many meanings depending on who it is to and what is being said. But it is not a bow as the people of Fodlan think it to be.”

“Explain.”

“In my hand, I currently hold nothing,” she said, presenting her open palm. “But once it is closed, I have accepted what has been given.” She closes it, tightly.

“But I haven’t given you anything,” he said, confused. 

“Oh, but you have! You have given me many wondrous things, Felix. For example, you have given me the opportunity to share the art of my fighting, the listening ears of a friend, and trusted steel of an ally. For these things you have given, I take them and hold them dear to my heart as a sign of acceptance of your gifts.” She lifts the fist to her heart. 

Felix grumbled in discontent at her praise of friendship. He felt like a shitty friend. She probably needed him in Remire, too. “But then you still bow,” he said.

“It is similar to a bow I see the nobles of Fodlan do, yes, but it is deeper in meaning. In Brigid, the heart is where the fires of the soul call home. To lean forward--” she demonstrates, “--is to become the hearth. The gifts received to the fires of the soul are best placed here, to warm the hearth. And thus, gratitude is shown.”

Felix gave this thought, cursing at her smile and feeling guilty for having imagined her so crudely days earlier. “Still sounds like a bow to me,” he grumbled. “Why do you do it when you apologize?”

“Ah, yes, it is different then. You would not _buichus_ to a person you intend on expressing sorrow to if they have not fed the fires of your soul before. In this situation, the _buichus_ is a reminder of the fires stoked between the two, a sign you have not forgotten nor be taken granted of.”

“Bwee-koos?” Felix tried to say the foriegn word. Petra eyes lit up like the sun at his poor attempt, and he cursed his fluttering heart once more. 

“Buichus, yes!” she said with glee, clapping her hands. “That is what it is called!” She performed the gesture once more.

 _Huh,_ he huffed. _I guess I don’t mind that._ Felix’s own appreciation for her swirled in his gut. Friendships weren’t really his thing, not since Glenn died. He was lucky enough to have held onto Sylvain and Ingrid for as long as he had. But maybe...he could forge something new. Words were challenging for Felix, but expressing himself through movement never felt embarrassing or wrong in that he might pick the wrong words, might have the wrong meaning. A blade in his hand was clear. As was this gesture, buichus, to Petra. _I was born in the wrong place._ For the first time, despite seeing her do it over a hundred times now, he replicated the gesture, directing it to her. 

She placed her hand on top of his, leaning forward to infect him with her smile. 

_Tap-tap-tap_

They both looked to the door. 

“Oh, Ashe! Come in!” she cheered.

Ashe entered with a large tray of food that smelled sinfully delicious. Meats seasoned with herbs, bread and olive oils dosed with pepper, and he spotted a decanter on his hip. Ashe knew exactly what he preferred.

“Felix has learned the meaning of _buichus!”_ she said to him cheerfully.

“Oh? Is that so? Petra only taught me that a few weeks ago. Bridgid culture sure is fascinating,” Ashe said fondly. “We should let him rest though,” he directed at Petra, sensing her excitement. “Manuela won’t be by until the morning, she’s busy with the injured villagers, but seeing as how you’re doing okay we could send in Mercedes?” he asked Felix.

“Don’t bother, I can live with a few scratches.” He’ll also be rested enough in the morning to do it himself. “And don’t--” Felix paused, ashamed. “Don’t tell anyone what you saw here, okay?”

Ashe brightened, sensing Felix had trusted him. “Didn’t see what?” He said coyly and winked. “See you later, Chevalier.” Ashe buichus to him (buichused? Did the buichus? He has a better understanding of Petra’s language ticks now) and reached out for Petra to follow.

Felix was taken aback when he saw the two link hands to depart. 

_You idiot. Of course they’re together. They’re both betas and you’re...you._

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Alternative chapter title: Felix had bad ideas  
> -Alternative alternative chapter title: Missing Felix/Petra B support  
> -I just want my two high crit babies to talk to each other, and for Felix to learn about other cultures where living and dying by duty and honor isn't engrained into every inch of their society. 
> 
> **Next Time:**  
>  In the Ashes of Remire  
> “Be straight with me, Sylvain! Yes, or no?” _Fuck, that came out too harsh._ He regretted it instantly. _This is why you don’t deserve him._  
>  “Yes! Jeeze, be nice to me, okay?” Sylvain chucked the broken bits of wood into the resource pile and rubbed his neck, avoiding Felix’s gaze. “It was...the place, Remire...You know I’m almost glad you weren’t there to see it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Please consider letting me know your thoughts by leaving a kudo or writing a comment. Always appreciated!
> 
> You are loved and deserving of love <3


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